The Mirror's Edge
by Gramm485
Summary: Faith Connors lives between reality and the edge. Life as a Runner isn't easy, but it's freedom. Now things are starting to change. The city is becoming more aggressive, more personal, and the Runners are at the center of it all. A Mirror's Edge novel.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Once the city used to pulse with energy. Dirty and dangerous, but alive and wonderful. Now, it's something else._

_The changes came slowly at first. Most didn't realize, or didn't care, and accepted them. They chose a comfortable life. Some didn't. And those who refused to conform were pushed to the sidelines; criminalized._

_They became our clients._

_We call ourselves Runners. We exist on the edge, between the glass and the reality: the mirror's edge. We keep out of trouble, out of sight, and the cops don't bother us._

_Runners see the city in a different way. We see the flow. Rooftops become pathways and conduits, possibilities and routes to escape. The flow is what keeps us running…_

_…keeps us alive._

* * *

><p>Faith opened the roof hatch and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, squinting in the brightness after the colorless stairwell. Standing up high on the roof, the sounds of downtown traffic at street level were muted by distance. Only an occasional horn or revving engine reached her ears if they were close enough and loud enough. Even higher than her, a commercial airliner traced a single contrail across the blue, featureless sky, its engines even quieter than the ones on the street.<p>

"_Well Faith, what do you think of the new training ground? Pretty slick, huh?_"

She stepped further out onto the roof, surveying the area around her. It was another construction project. There was one mainly unfinished building with a crane rising out of a jungle gym of I-beams and unfinished levels, with material piled up everywhere. Half the roof was finished, the other half a skeleton of a frame; the building next to it looked almost completely finished. The city block surrounding it contained finished buildings, but it looked like traces of the construction still spread to the closest edges. There was still plenty of work to be done, but as of right now, the scattered material and half finished constructs were perfect.

She lifted a hand to her ear, pressing the transmitter on her ear piece. "Looks good Merc, but would you mind telling me what happened to the old one?"

"_Well, as you know, the city's always growing, and they finally got around to finishing the high-rise on East Side after the labor union strike. Our old training ground is now a bunch discount condos and offices_."

"They're bound to finish this one too, sooner or later," Faith said. "I wouldn't get too attached to it."

"_Which is why we need to make the most out of it while we can_," Merc said pointedly. "_Drake and some of his guys scoped the place out a few weeks ago. Surveillance won't be installed for another month, once the construction is finished, and the buildings are low priority, so don't expect too much attention from the public or CPF. If anyone sees you, they'll just think you're a vagrant or hoodlum doing some loitering. Not worth their time when they've got bigger issues to worry about._"

The sun beat down on the paved roof, reflecting most of its heat into her as she knelt to check the laces of her new crimson Loggos. The sleek Indonesian-brand shoes fit snugly around her feet, light but with a solid tread on the bottom. The big toe was separated from the rest, making it easier to work into nooks and crannies for climbing. When they were cinched tight, it hardly felt like wearing anything.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was the kind of day to be exploring the city, looking for new routes, or hitting the mall and checking out the new Raposa threads after a day's deliveries. The last thing she wanted to be doing was wasting time running the same three or four buildings over and over again.

"Merc, do I really need to be doing this?" she asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice as double knotting the laces. "I ran all the way here without a hitch. Isn't that enough for you?"

"_I know you hate it, but you were out for almost two months after that fall. I know your leg feels fine, but I want to make sure you've still got it before I stick you on a route. The way you took here was child's play; this place has got plenty of tricks for you to try out to make sure you're at a hundred percent._"

"Oh, I've still got it," she griped, not bothering to send the message back to Merc. If there hadn't been a GPS tracker in her earpiece, she would have just ditched.

A high whistle made her ears perk. Faith looked over the railing and saw a small waving smear of red against the gray and white roof of the finished building next to her. She smiled when she recognized the blond ponytail and waved back.

"Hey, Cel's here," she told Merc, breaking into a light jog. "I'll talk to you later."

"_Alright kid, have fun. I'll check back with you in an hour._"

The path to the center building was no sweat. All she had to do was hop a small gap between the buildings and vault an unfinished staircase, and the scaffolding took her right to the adjoining roof. Celeste was waiting for her, finishing up a few last-minute stretches.

"Glad to see you back on the tops, Faith," she said with a warm smile after a quick hug.

"Me too, Cel. Merc's glad that I'm finally out of his place," she replied with a lopsided grin. "I think I was starting to drive him crazy by just hanging around all day."

She shrugged. "Not much you can do with a broken leg."

They spent the next few minutes stretching and catching up on some gossip. Faith stretched all her major muscles, especially the ones in her legs, even if the run there had warmed her up enough. Everything felt just a little too stiff for her taste, but six weeks cooped up on a couch would do that to you.

"Well, what do you say we take it slow?" Celeste offered, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she adjusted her black gloves that matched the leather brace on her left arm. It hid most of the digital tat that snaked around her forearm. Her Loggos were black to match the track pants she wore slung low on her hips. A navel piercing peeked out from the sliver of midsection between her red tank top and waistline. "A little follow the leader? It'll give you a chance to get to see this place up close."

Faith shrugged indifferently. "Sure, why not?"

Celeste took off at a gentle jog, and after beckoning, Faith trailed at her heels. The rooftops were close together, providing easy jumps from area to area, and it didn't take long for her to feel the flow of the new training area. The paths were pretty obvious, with planks and ledges where construction workers had half-finished pointing to jumping spots, and lots of wide open areas to get some speed. After all, it was a training ground; a place to warm up or to practice in safety.

Their initial run was simple: they hopped over to one of the adjacent building via the scaffolding, scaling a few low fences and crossing a few short gaps. Before long, the heat forced a light sweat from her; she was a little out of shape, and she knew it before she stretched, even if she didn't want to admit it to Merc. Running the new training ground was probably a good idea.

But even if she felt out of shape, she could still feel the Flow; the way her body moved over and around obstacles with minimal effort. Each step led to the next one, each jump starting the next one. It was a transfer of speed and momentum, something that kept her moving. Stuttering or tripping disrupted it like turbulence on a plane, ruining the otherwise smooth motion that she and every other Runner tried so hard to perfect.

Celeste eventually stepped it up after moving into an alcove. Even though there was a door installed, most of the room it led to wasn't even finished yet, with half of the walls still skeletal. An I-beam was positioned across to a balcony, the drop below them an easy ten stories. Without so much as batting an eye, she hopped several feet out onto the beam and began to move forward, arms outstretched for balance.

Faith was right behind her. Remembering the all-important rule of don't look down, she focused on Cel's ponytail and keeping her legs moving smoothly. Her arms acted as a balance, making tiny controlled movements to reset her body weight while her feet kept moving in swinging steps to avoid tripping on her cargo pants. It helped some that they were tied off at the ankles.

Celeste stepped onto the surface of the next roof. Seconds later, Faith followed, a little relieved. Crossing a balance beam that high up was second nature, only now not so much after her injury. A fall like that killed, and the only way to deal with that danger was to not talk about it.

Life as a Runner wasn't always vacation.

"Good to see your balance is still in tip-top shape," Celeste said, bouncing once again on her feet to keep her body moving. "Ready for something a little more rigorous?"

"Like what?"

She suddenly reached forward and slapped her on the shoulder, then bolted off running. "You're it!" By the time the impact registered, she had already scaled a wall, breaking into a dead on sprint.

"Dammit!" Faith yelled with a laugh, then took off after her.

The wall Cel had climbed was really only a raised portion of the roof. Faith lunged at it, digging her feet into the concrete walls and letting the treads on her Loggos get a grip. She made it up three quick steps, more than enough to get a hand on the edge and hoist herself up in one motion.

Cel was ahead of her, jumping off the raised section of roof and grabbing a pipe jutting out from some ventilation shafts. She swung herself over a cluster of air conditioners to a drainage pipe, then immediately began to scale it. Faith trailed her, launching off the shed and grabbing the pipe in both of her outstretched hands. She could feel her momentum swing her forward with her hands as the pivot. She let go at the end of the swing, allowing it to carry her body forward with the aid of a little pump from her legs.

Still a little rusty, she lost some forward motion on the swing and hit the drainage pipe a little lower than Celeste. It rattled as Cel skipped to another pipe to the left of them, which she quickly abandoned to grab the ledge of a fire escape. Faith dug her feet into the crease of the pipe and started climbing. Her shoes gripped the side of the building and the metal tape that was used to secure the pipe.

The game of tag continued as both women moved along an unseen path on the features of the roof like it was meant to be scaled. Cel grabbed the edge of the top of the building above them and shimmied along it, then wiggled through a hole in the chain link fence that protected its perimeter. Here, Faith managed to close some of the distance, being slightly better at climbing. Cel had some flashy moves, but when they were toe to toe, Faith had the endurance and efficiency, out of shape or not.

She made a grab for Cel's ankle as she got through the fence just ahead of her, but missed, slapping nothing but hot concrete. The broken metal tines of the chain links scratched at her bare arms and picked at her track tank-top, but she scrambled through just in time to see Cel pull off a triangle jump off of a slab of sheet metal. She was just a breath behind her, resuming the Flow and hitting the sheet at an angle, taking a few gravity-defying steps along it, then twisted and jumped off, grabbing the same scaffolding platform Cel had. With a kick of her legs, she got her elbows onto the platform and pulled herself up.

Up another wall, then across a narrow ledge which both of them had to slowly edge across, but as soon as they stepped off onto a wider path, the chase was back on. Celeste made a break for a high-tension wire that anchored the crane to the building, then jumped and wrapped her hands around it, sliding down it like a zip line.

Faith grabbed the wire, first with the fingerless glove on her right hand, then gripped back of her hand with her left and began her slide. She could feel the intense heat of friction from under the leather of her glove in the calluses of her hand. Most Runners, like Cel, wore two gloves for this very reason. Others could pull it off with just one glove, but it took practice.

Cel dropped off the zip line and fell onto a tarp covered pallet, breaking her fall with the use of her legs and arms. It burned all her forward motion, but the same fate awaited Faith as she mimicked the maneuver, almost dropping on top of her had she not already scrabbled off the pad.

The chase resumed, becoming smoother after the sudden halt in movement. Cel darted over a pipe. Faith went under. She leaped a gap, tucking her legs up to avoid catching the top of a barb-wired fence. Faith did the same, but felt a tine pluck the bottom of her thigh, the fence rattling in response as it nicked her.

It was just after vaulting a crate that Celeste screwed up. After she jumped, she grabbed a hanging ladder from another fire escape on the adjoining roof, but slipped on the rungs, giving Faith the last bit of time she needed to catch up. When she hit the lower rungs of the same ladder, she reached up and snatched her by the cuff of the pants. "Gotcha!"

"Ah, damn!" Cel swore. She laughed, then sagged against the ladder, breathing hard.

Faith joined her, and for a while, the two of them clung to the ladder, laughing. Eventually, she let go, and the two of them finished the route at an easy pace. They were near where they had started anyway, and were soon back on top of the finished building next to the crane.

"Well, I don't know why Merc thought you needed practice," Celeste said through her breathing as they slowed out of the run. "You haven't lost any of your edge."

"Maybe," Faith replied, breathing a little harder. She was definitely out of shape. "Being back after six weeks isn't exactly a run in the park."

"Fair enough," she agreed. "As long as you're warmed up, want to do some sparring?" She shrugged when she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it was Merc's idea. Keeps you on your toes."

They took a small breather, sipping some of the water Celeste had graciously brought with her, then moved to an open area of the finished roof. The area was enclosed by a roof access shed and some AC units, making a lopsided but perfectly functional sparring ring for them. Celeste squared off in a casual boxing stance, legs apart and hands loose, but defensive.

"You want me to go easy on you?" Faith teased, mimicking her position.

"You're the one who's been out," Celeste replied, stretching her arm across her chest. She ran her hand over her quiff, smoothing it down after the run. "I should be asking you that."

"Please, after I caught you that quickly?"

Celeste smiled and threw the first punch. Without safety gear, the best they could manage were courteous little trade offs. Faith had sparred her in full contact, and the punch she struck with now was nowhere near as fast or hard as it should be. She countered it easily, throwing a mock palm to the nose, which Cel blocked and turned into an arm lock.

They went back and forth, gradually increasing the pace until it matched a light jog, spliced with grunts of efforts. Only a few blows landed, light enough to shrug off as friendly taps. Neither of them had a preferred style; it was all a jumble of moves taken from the internet and surveillance footage from martial art schools, mixed in with what they saw in the movies. None of it was a clear discipline, and like running, often changed with the flow of movement and opportunity.

The sparring match ended with no clear winner. Cel was quick on her feet, once again her elegance showing through in her style. Faith was a little more heavy-handed; a punch was a punch, a kick was a kick. The faster and harder she hit, the faster she could get moving again. By the time they agreed to punch out, each of them had a few sore spots and were back to sweating profusely.

"Check this out." Celeste dug into the pack she wore at the small of her back a few minutes into their water break. Faith was surprised to see a gun in her hand. "A little something Kreeg and Drake worked up. New training model, based off of the standard CPF sidearm."

"Cool," Faith admitted as she tossed her the gun. The weight felt just about right. If it wasn't for the fact she checked the magazine and found a single dummy round in it, she would swear it was a real gun, not some cheap look-a-like made of wood or plastic. She tossed it back to Celeste. "Disarms?"

"You know it." She held the gun up. "Grab it."

As soon as she said it, Faith darted forward, grabbing her by the wrist, then grabbed the gun itself and twisted it out of her grip. Just as quickly, the gun was up in a firing position in her hand.

"Alright, how about one more time, this time without me handing it to you," Celeste said icily. Faith grinned in return and tossed the fake weapon back. "Wait for the snap this time."

She took a step back, waiting for Celeste to draw and aim like a cop would, and when she did, it was just as fast. This time Faith stepped inward, controlling the center between them, using Celeste's own momentum against her to sweep the gun up and over, and then pry it free. She even added a faux-strike to the back of her neck for good measure.

The two traded techniques back and forth for the next half an hour in the afternoon sun. Celeste didn't have any new techniques for her, but Faith was a fan of rehearsal when it came to hand-to-hand, going over the fundamentals and reliable techniques of what she knew would work.

A gentle hiss of static suddenly sounded in her ear as Celeste finished one of her disarms. "_How's it going ladies?_"

Faith lifted a hand to her earpiece, Celeste trading the gun to her other hand so she could do the same on hers. "Hey Merc. Good to be back."

"_I bet. Listen, I know you guys are having the time of your life, but Drake's been riding my ass all morning. Cel, he's got some work for you that needs doing this afternoon._"

"Yeah, I know. He made that more than obvious last night before I took off," she said with a roll of her eyes, then looked at her. "Workaholic. I gotta get going Faith. See you around!"

"Want to grab lunch later?" Faith called after her as she jogged across the roof.

"Sorry, rain check!"

After that, she hopped to the next roof, slowly turning to a red and blond blotch that skimmed across the featureless blue, white, and gray rooftops, before vanishing altogether.

"_What about you Faith? Want to stick around for a bit? I got some things that you could do too._"

"Let me at least grab some lunch Merc. I'm starving after that workout. I'll let you know when I'm done, okay?"

"_Sounds good, kiddo._"

Faith stretched her arms, turning to the direction of the Financial District. It had some good quick food places street level that she could get before Merc put her to work. The sun was still shining, and it was her first day back on the rooftops for almost six weeks. She broke into a jog, then a gentle sprint, and lost herself in the Flow.


	2. Edge

**Edge**

Faith crammed the rest of the hard-boiled egg into her mouth, finishing the last of her lunch with a single, large bite. Her legs dangled over the ledge of the City Finance Offices, about a twenty story drop to Third Avenue below. She had parked herself under one of the outcroppings that alternated up the high rise between floors; it was a perfect little shaded spot to enjoy her lunch and offered an excellent view of part of the Financial District. Plus, it was one of the few parts of the building that didn't have windows.

She flicked the eggshell over the side, watching it twirl and flutter down to the street. In hindsight, such a small feat of littering was ignorable. Either the city would clean it up, or a stray animal would nab it, and nothing would be changed. It was just one of the few ways to stick it to the city without poking it in the eye. Like running.

She wiped her hands on her pants and stood up, taking one last look at the cityscape, then started moving. The ledge moved around the side of the building, its concrete walls turning to floor to ceiling tinted windows that reflected as good as a bathroom mirror, then dropped abruptly into a gently slope. She slid down it, the left side of her smooth panes of glass, and three feet to her right a lethal drop onto concrete.

After another short slope, the ledge turned along the perimeter of the building into the sun, then widened out to a small shelf that housed one of many billboards that dotted nearly every surface. She ran up the maintenance walkway that spanned the base, then jumped and got her feet on the face of it. She stepped across an ad for Vegade (_brought to you by Raposa!_) then turned and leapt into empty space.

Adrenaline flooded her veins as she sailed over the safety railing in front of the billboard, the effects of gravity telling her that she was in for a very long fall. Time seemed to slow, like she was moving through molasses. Her stomach shifted, still digesting her meal as the floating sensation before a fall took over her senses, and for a split second, she got the feeling that every Runner felt every day:

This jump might be her last.

It was what they called the Deadpoint; that feeling of weightlessness before gravity wrapped its arms around your shoulders at the peak of long jump. You neither fell nor rose. Endorphins and adrenaline flooded your system. It was a natural high.

Her only salvation was a red-painted crane jutting out from another high rise that was being constructed next to the Finance Office. Its arm hung out over the street with an empty load, no more than two feet wide at the very end.

Time sped back up. Faith hit the tip of the crane with one foot, immediately stepping forward with her other to prevent her momentum from sending her in a tumble that would throw her off. Her legs blurred as she ran down the arm, and as she neared the curved base, she hopped forward into a slide, letting gravity take over the rest of the crane's smooth, curved frame.

Once she slid off of it, she built up a little more speed to vault off of a box to clear the temporary security fencing that surrounded the top of the building and—

"_Faith?_"

She wavered in mid air, and then landed a little hard on the rooftop, sinking to her hands and one knee to absorb the shock. Just like that, her motion ceased. Her finger went to her earpiece, a little annoyed at the interruption in the Flow.

"What's up Merc?"

"_You done eating yet?_" he asked.

"Yeah, just finished," she said with a flushed smile, still giddy from what she just pulled off. "You won't believe what I just did."

"_Whatever it was, I'm sure it was reckless and stupid. How many times to I have to tell you to not to get yourself killed before you actually listen?_"

"Probably until I get myself killed."

"_Uh-huh...Well anyways, I'm too lazy to ping you; where are you right now?_"

"Just off the Finance Offices on Third. The new building going up."

"_Seeing as we don't have a route planned through there yet, I'd say my concerns are justified,_" Merc said darkly. "_But that works just fine. Drake dropped a bag earlier this morning three blocks to your northwest. It's in the Howitz Building, top floor, in a ventilation shaft. It's a tagged zone, easy route there._"

"Got it," she replied, familiar with the location, then started moving. "Where's my drop zone?"

"_You'll actually be doing a handoff with Celeste, since she's going to be heading towards it on another job. She'll meet you at relay tower one-oh-four, then I have another pick up for you._"

Faith jumped off the edge of the rooftop onto the adjoining one, rolling as she hit the concrete to break her fall. Solar panels winked in the early afternoon sunlight as she passed them, taking a light step off of one to vault a security fence that spanned the inner roof. The city was big on the whole green energy thing; they claimed it kept everything cleaner, and almost every building had some kind of solar array. On the right day at the right time, the rooftops would sparkle with their reflection.

A high-tension wire on an access stairwell spanned over Fourth Avenue and took her to the next roof, overlooked by a massive billboard that advertised the upcoming mayoral election. Vote Callaghan! screamed at her in white over an orange backdrop that didn't look too far off from vomit. Her views on the city politics weren't too far from that sensation either.

The Howitz Building was just up ahead, and just beyond that, a block away, a red radio tower jutted out from a rooftop. Celeste was meeting her at the base of it.

A series of drainage pipes linked the buildings together, spanning across the roofs like a balance beam. As she crossed carefully, she couldn't help but notice the flash of blue beneath her in her peripheral vision a full eleven stories down, accompanied by a siren. It sounded like the CPF was hard at work this afternoon, but she ignored it. Blues on the street were small time, chasing down petty rabble or anything else they could with an excuse.

The last jump to the Howitz building was a doozy. The roof was almost level with hers, but the distance covered an entire one-way street below. Faith ignored the nip of fear in her gut and vaulted off the edge of the roof and hit the Deadpoint, aiming for a drainage pipe on the side of the building. She hit the pipe, immediately clasping her hands around it with a grunt of effort and pain as she knocked her knee. It rattled, and the impact stung her hands, but it stayed secure. She let out a giddy breath and started climbing.

The access door was right in front of her as she clambered over the edge of the roof. Naturally, it was locked, but a brief inspection of the door showed that it was pretty light, so she drew back her leg and kicked it open. Runners were usually a widespread source of breaking and entering. She had kicked in or smashed through more doors than she could count and probably racked up quite a vandalism rap with CPF.

"_Hm, getting a little chatter about you on the wire_," Merc said. He sounded like he was adjusting some things his side. "_Sounds like it was relayed from a news chopper? See anything?_"

Faith glanced up, and sure enough, she spotted the helicopter. However, instead of flying, it was just hovering, as if watching something in the nearby area, probably her. Runners got reported all the time by local aircraft, especially police helicopters.

"Yeah, it's CEC," she said as she moved into the building. "Must be a slow day for the news."

"_Yeah. Still, Blues will know you're there, so don't hang around in case they decide to investigate._"

With a little of Merc's help, she spent only a brief time roaming the maintenance halls until she saw the Runner tag. It was a small, two inch square of red spray paint tucked in an out of sight area behind a metal cabinet. Runners knew where to look for them; they were bag drop zones, either for Runners to trade goods or for clients to pick up. She bore a similar digital tat around her right eye. A little token from her first job.

She ran up a portion of the wall, just to get enough height to grab a small ledge beneath one of the high windows, and then brought her feet up against it. Simultaneously pushing with her legs and pulling up with her hands, she got a few feet of altitude and gripped the edge of the large industrial style ventilation shaft that ran along the ceiling and mantled it.

The wasp-yellow messenger bag was lying just at the end of it, trimmed in faded black with half a dozen smaller pockets sewn into it. Ducking low to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling, she scuttled over to it. Stuffed inside were three or four manila envelopes with some files, a small hard drive, and a box which she didn't bother to open. It was the most precious commodity in the city: information. Information that couldn't be read, tracked, or tampered with.

She relayed the contents back to Merc. "_Sounds about right. Cel's almost at the tower. She said she'll meet you there._"

The vent next to her was missing the bottom screws on its grate, a tell-tale sign that another Runner had been using it to navigate through the building. She followed the unseen route, slipping the bag's strap over her shoulder and scrabbling into the wide ventilation duct by lifting the grate. It was large enough to easily house her small frame.

As she quietly commando-crawled through the shaft, faint snippets from other parts of the building floated through the sound of rushing cool air. A telephone call, a conversation about last night's ballgame, and a radio updating the latest information on the mayoral election. No one seemed to notice or made known that she was right above their heads.

The duct was freezing, raising goosebumps on her arms, so she moved quickly. It broke away in all directions, turning into a maze but most of the paths where secured with filters, fans, or grates. The path a Runner would take would show signs of tampering, and even if she somehow got turned around, a solid Tracker like Merc would have no problem guiding her out.

Eventually, she came to another ventilation grate with a few screws missing, this one directly below her that, according to Merc, dropped into the roof access stairwell. It would take her to the other side of the building to the radio tower. She slipped it open and slid through, landing on the floor with a grunt as her legs absorbed the shock.

"Hey!"

She looked up and her jaw almost dropped as four City Protection Force officers at the end of the hall unholstered their sidearms and took aim at her.

"Drop the bag and get on the ground!" one of them yelled, still wearing sunglasses. "Right now!"

Still flabbergasted, she only gaped for a second. How had four cops gotten the drop on her, and she hadn't even gotten a warning from Merc, who was monitoring chatter? It was like they had been waiting for her…and then she remembered the lights on the street below, and the news chopper. But still, it didn't add up.

The stairs were just to her right, tucked into an alcove. The Blues advanced on her menacingly, but slowly, line abreast with their guns bearing down. As per their nickname, all of them wore matching navy uniforms, pinned with silver badges.

She blinked the surprise away, then hurled herself out of her crouch to the right, sprinting for the stairs.

The shock returned, along with a surge of terror as four loud bangs bounced off the walls enclosed stairwell. They were shooting at her! Bullets tore into the concrete, splashing stinging broken bits onto her as she ran. She threw up her hands in panic to shield herself from the shrapnel as one more round zinged past her.

She hit the stairs on the fly, adrenaline giving her an extra boost of much needed speed. It wasn't the happy feel-lucky adrenaline she felt when she ran; this was fear. The Blues were just behind her, one of them firing off another round that clipped the bottom of the metal stairs as she rounded the next flight, and then the rest of them charged up after her.

Merc was yammering for her attention, but her heart was pounding too loud for her to understand it. She kicked off the wall, bypassing a set of stairs with an easy hop over the railing, buying her precious more lead time against her pursuers.

The next roof access door was just ahead. She slammed through it, back into the bright afternoon day, and then kept sprinting, following the edge of the roof over a set of steps and AC units.

"_…chatter's going insane. Keep moving Faith, get to the tower!_" Merc snapped in her ear, his words finally making sense. "_We can't let the Blues get a hold of a bag. I'm patching Celeste through._"

Her earpiece crackled and buzzed as he tweaked the frequencies. "_What's going on?_" Celeste's voice was urgent. "_I hear gunshots, and that CEC bird seems a little too curious._"

"_Faith's got some heat. Get ready to grab the package and haul ass. She'll be there soon._"

Faith jumped to the next roof, rolling after the higher fall, then was back on her feet, sliding on her thigh under a railing, then jumping over a roof vent. Her movements were a symphony of motion, finding the path of least resistance to put more distance between her and her pursuers before they could catch up.

Another gunshot sounded, but when she looked back, she saw the Blues still on the roof of the Howitz building, unable to follow her across the gap. One of them had taken a cheap potshot, but she was already outside the range of their weapons, and she didn't even hear the shot hit anything.

She put another roof between them, and they were no longer visible. Some of the adrenaline wore off as she moved up a walkway, and then took one last leap to the next rooftop by catching the railing of a fire escape. The radio tower was just next door, and as she climbed the ladder, she saw Celeste's red tank top and blonde hair at one of the support struts.

"_Hey!_" she yelled and waved her arm. Faith heard her voice in her earpiece, but also faintly in her other ear from across the gap. "_Throw me the bag!_" Faith pitched the satchel up to her, and she caught it easily with one hand. "I got it from here."

"'Kay. Careful Cel," she cautioned through heavy breathing. "They're playing rough."

"_Don't worry about me, just…oh shit! Get out of there!_"

Celeste turned and sprinted off, vanishing instantly. Faith whirled around to see another group of cops file out of the roof access door not fifty feet from her. At least, she thought they were cops, but they weren't wearing CPF uniforms. Instead, they wore black, and were partially armored in SWAT gear, toting automatic weapons. They looked more like soldiers than cops.

With the door blocked, and the way she came completely open to their line of fire, she bolted forward as a salvo of bullets was released. The AC units and roof vents were just enough to give her cover as she scaled a fence, then hopped a pipe. The way ahead of her was blank and featureless, wide open, and with no roof to go to after it. The heavy footfalls of the cops behind her moved closer, boxing her in as they weaved around the clutter. She was trapped, and they would have a clear shot any second.

"_I don't care how you get off that roof, Faith, just get off!_" Merc yelled in her ear.

Easier said than done, as it turned out. There was a low building about ten stories below her, but she couldn't make the jump and still live, or at least walk away from it without shattered legs. Just as she began to despair, the news chopper's blades sounded. It was panning slowly along the roof, and close, too, trying to get the juicy details of her apprehension or execution.

She threw caution out the window and jumped at it, or more specifically, the landing struts. The thick metal beams were smooth and hard to grab, and one of her hands slipped as they made contact, putting her in a precarious dangle over the street far below. The 'copter, unprepared for the extra hundred pounds and sudden shift in weight, careened, nearly throwing her off. As it spun, she caught the insane sight of herself off of the mirrored windows of the building next to her, hanging from the out of control craft.

The pilot gained control, enough for Faith to get her other hand back up on the strut. It was still too high to let go, but she spied a tarp beneath her, the kind that usually covered softer building material. She waited for just the right moment, then released her grip. The free-fall sent her stomach up her throat, but her aim was true, and she landed hard on the middle of the tarp. It was soft enough that the only pain she felt was the impact of her butt as her legs buckled, and the sting across her forearms as she broke her fall.

On the other roof, the cops, or soldiers, whatever they were, approached the edge, looking like small black specks. They studied her for a minute, then begrudgingly turned and retreated.

"_Faith? Faith!_"

She pressed her earpiece, which had fallen slightly askew in the fall, trying to accept what just happened in mere minutes. "Yeah…yeah, I'm here, Merc. They're backing off."

"T_his job wasn't supposed to be hot, so why the hell did they go after you? What did you do, Faith?_"

"Nothing!" she cried, indignant. "They just showed up and when I ran, they started shooting! Who the hell were those guys, and how did they know how to intercept me like that?"

"_No idea. CPF chatter didn't say squat. Cel said they looked like SWAT, but they weren't using the same channel._" He sighed hard. "_Christ…Get your ass back to base, I'm calling everyone in._"

Faith clamored off the canvas, trying to lose the adrenaline shakes in her thighs. In the distance, she recognized a cluster of low buildings that bordered the Financial District, where the suburbs began. She could use it to get back to Merc's lair. It was an easy route with low paths and lots of overhead obstructions, and she could use it to lose the chopper if it decided to try and track her again.

As she ran, her mind still spun, trying to piece together what happened. Most of the Runners had had skirmishes with the police in the past. It usually ended after a brief chase. Once in a great while a shot was fired from a rookie or an overeager Blue, but the cops usually left them alone.

What the hell was going on?


	3. Flight Part 1

**Flight (Part 1)**

The rest of the day had been spent lying low in Merc's lair: a large, hollowed out AC unit on top of a high-rise on the perimeter of downtown. It was tucked away from prying eyes in one of the seedier districts, but as long as you stayed ten stories up or higher, it was safe.

Despite the action of the day, Faith was unable to sleep as evening settled. Dusk came and went, the city outside slowly settling into a light slumber. It never truly went dark; there were always lights on in the buildings from third shift workers, and the streets below always glowed like strings of diamonds with traffic. You could still hear the commercial airliners, but their contrails remained invisible in the night sky until sunrise, where they would turn red with the dawn. Contrary to the bland, crisp daytime, the city sparkled beautifully like a jewel.

Faith tossed and turned on Merc's beaten couch that was covered by an old red blanket, then abandoned the idea of sleeping entirely. She was wired. There was no point in tossing and turning all night. Instead, she flipped on the police scanner at Merc's desk in the center of the room. It was covered in monitors and modems, rising up like a tower around the central support column until they nearly touched the ceiling, and all of it was jerry-rigged into the CPF network. The scanner was a humbler toy of his, compared to the others.

She could only wonder how Mercury and Drake had come up with such a reliable and impressive communication network. With it, they could track anything the Blues had with a GPS receiver and any Runner with an earpiece. They could get building plans and plot routes along the city skyline, slice into cameras and radios, and get all the information kept them one step ahead of the CPF on their routes.

How they managed to get an entire couch up without being noticed, let alone thousands of computer components, was beyond her. The cheap coffee table in front of it was easy enough; some assembly required, of course.

Voices came from the scanner as CPF cops relayed their nighttime runs to dispatch as soon as she turned it on. It was mostly quiet; run of the mill stuff because she had turned the frequency to random, not really caring what precinct it landed on. If she was in a certain mood, she could tune the scanner almost like a radio to get the good stuff.

After fishing through a drawer, she procured a deck of cards and returned to the couch, pulling up the plastic coffee table. She shuffled the deck out of habit, then began to lay foundations for a card castle. It was a hobby of hers, like listening to the scanner, and it might even help put her to sleep after a while of squinting in the dark. The only light to aid her was that of the computer station and the light that filtered through the walls from the city.

The hours ticked away as she slowly added more and more cards to the growing pyramid of spades, hearts, and diamonds. She had just placed the queen of diamonds and jack of clubs when a familiar voice sounded from the desk.

"_Dispatch, come in, this is four-four-three._"

Faith paused, not sure if she had really heard it.

The dispatcher replied back after a second's pause. "_This is dispatch, four-four-three_."

"_I'm heading down to West Arlington. Going to see Robert Pope to take a statement about a break in last week._"

She got up from the couch, being careful not to bang her knee on the table and knock over her pyramid, then moved to the desk and bumped one of the screens off of idle. A single keystroke ran a standard trace on the current frequency.

"_Anyways, it's fifty-six West Arland. Let Miller know when he comes in, might be there a while._"

"_Copy that, Officer Connors._"

"_Connors out._"

The trace completed nearly instantly, pinging both the dispatcher at the city's fourteenth precinct and a squad car heading towards the West Arlington district.

She smiled softly to herself as she looked at the blinking dot on the GPS. "Hey sis…"

It was as close as she could safely get to Kate, even when they lived in the same city. Her sister had chosen a different set of ideals, but they had the same goal.

The comm unit chirped, a different sound from the scanner's harsh static.

"_You there, kiddo?_" It was Merc, out on one of his late night jobs.

"Hey Merc," she replied back into the desk's headset. She ran another trace, this one to ping his headset. He was a few city blocks away, but it looked like he was starting to head back. "What's up?"

"_Just finishing my last round. You're listening to the chatter aren't you?_"

She grinned. "You know me."

"_Well, try to get some sleep. It's been a rough day. Tomorrow, me and Drake are going to do a little digging and see what's got the Blues so riled up. I'll be back in a bit, and don't chuck that pizza, I like the toppings-_"

"-mature, yeah, I know," Faith finished. She lifted up the corner of a pizza box on the desk. It's mature alright, she thought with a wrinkle of her nose. He was going to get food poisoning one of these days. "See ya, Merc."

She returned to the couch and her feat of card architecture. Over the next hour, she laid all but four of them. With pursed lips, she squinted in the dim light of the computer monitors, knowing that even the slightest tremble or breath would knock the entire pyramid over. She was about to set the last of two sets when an alarmed squawk sounded from the scanner.

"_Shots fired, shots fired. Repeat, ten seventy-one, ten seven one. All available units proceed directly to fifty-six West Arland. All officers…_"

Faith had been trying to regain focus after the initial message when the address suddenly hit her.

"Oh God, Kate!"

She leaped from the couch, knocking over the table with her shins in her haste. The card pyramid collapsed in a flash, but she hardly noticed as she shoved aside Merc's chair, hastily recalling the trace she ran earlier.

"Dammit, damn, damn," she swore, then got the trace back up and running. She knew offhand that West Arland was about in the middle of West Arlington, but she didn't know where exactly, or if there was a route that ran close by.

In her digging of the CPF's substantial database of maps and digital blueprints, she managed to ping the exact location and committed it to memory, then began to dig further, pawing through floor plans to find out more.

"Where are you Kate?" she whispered to herself. "Where _are_ you? Pope, Pope…"

Why did the name sound familiar?

There! An office listed to Robert Pope about three-quarters of the way up the high-rise. Kate said she was going there to take a statement. Drake even had a route plotted through the district, and she could get there without having to scope a path out first. She grabbed her earpiece off the desk.

She and Kate were on opposite sides of the law; she couldn't watch over her every waking minute, but she couldn't sit by when she knew she was in trouble.

As she turned, she nearly ran straight into a figure that had just dropped from the roof hatch, startling her. Merc was back from his job. He was large for a Runner, though he worked more as a Tracker than anything else. He was built like a football player; wide and stocky, his frame highlighted by a white button-down with the sleeves rolled and faded cargo pants. His brown hair was done in a short buzz cut, and his digital tats wove up both his bulging arms.

He yawned sleepily, not even noticing how intent she was on leaving until she was brushing by. "Hey…you off? Where you going?"

"Merc, get on comms and track me," she said, then crouched and jumped, grabbing the edge of the hole in the ceiling that acted as the door, then hoisted herself up.

As soon as she got her feet on the roof, she started running, ignoring Merc's last attempt to ask her where she was going.

Fifty-six West Arland was on the wrong side of her approach. Faith had to power through the center of the district to get there quickly. By the time she was three blocks away, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting the city out of twilight into a dull gray and removing its gem-like appearance. In another hour, the primary colors would be more noticeable.

"Almost there," she relayed back to Merc, then hopped down onto a lower section of roof below her.

The block was mostly a large black skyscraper that jutted out from a cluster of much smaller buildings, surrounded by a boulevard and two smaller side streets. It was mainly featureless, save for the mirrored tinted windows, a few comms antennae on the roof, and the letters "RP&A" titling the very top in green lettering.

"_Anytime you want to tell me where 'there' is, and what the hell you're doing, feel free,_" Merc grumped back.

"It's my sister," she replied. That was all she needed to say.

"_Ah, got it._" Merc sounded a lot more awake now. "_Gimme a sec, I'm going to call Drake, see if I can dig up anything…put on another pot of coffee, too..._"

She had no intention of waiting when she could be moving. She was already across the roof, hopping from an AC unit to the vent it was attached to, then onto a clearing blocked by a fence. She easily vaulted it thanks to some low-lying drainage pipes, tucking her legs up as she cleared it. There was no barbed wire, but a faint buzz in the air indicated that the metal that passed beneath her was probably electrified. Getting shocked once in the past was plenty of negative reinforcement to not get shocked again.

Faith moved onto the next building, following the Flow, vaulting a slightly bigger gap over an alley, paying to heed to the dizzying twenty story drop beneath her. Her ear bud chirped again when her feet touched the opposing rooftop.

"_Alright, I just talked to Drake. It looks like there was some heat on West Arland recently, Pope's place. I guess that's where you're heading. But be careful, there hasn't been any chatter since you ran off, and it's not like CPF to drop the ball after a call like that. Who knows what's going on?_"

"Don't worry, Merc," she said impatiently, sizing up her next path. "I'll be careful."

A quick climb and a swing off of a beam put her on the right side of a fence rimmed with razor wire. Her entrance to the skyscraper lay just over the edge of the roof: a small balcony. It was a long jump, but she had about a story drop to help her with the distance. She took a deep breath, then pushed off into a sprint, heading towards the abrupt edge.

She shoved off hard into a leap, and her stomach rose uncontrollably. For that fleeting second after the Deadpoint, it felt like the power of gravity was too strong, that she didn't get enough forward speed to make the gap. Beneath her an entire city street went by, then the edge of the balcony slid beneath her feet.

She made it with about a foot to spare, her feet just clearing the handrail that bordered the balcony. As soon as she felt like her feet would hit, she curled her body hard, tucking into a tight, vicious roll. It felt like getting punched in the back, but all her kinetic energy was transformed into harmless forward speed, preventing her legs from snapping.

Sore but undeterred, she continued moving. The door that led to the interior was locked, but a swift kick against the latch knocked it wide open, and there was no alarm, at least none she could hear. The hallway beyond the door was painted in a soft white, the floor carpeted in a similar color. It was a typical city office building, looking like it had been built out of a mold. Everything was perfectly designed for efficiency and crisp looking with plenty of hard, abrupt edges.

Faith kept a slower pace now, favoring silence for speed. It was around five in the morning, and with an office like this, there was bound to be someone around, and city officials didn't take lightly to people, let alone vagrant Runners breaking into their buildings. She tried to keep her face low and eyes up, looking for cameras, but didn't see any.

"_You know he's running for mayor, right?_" Merc chimed absently. "_If there's anyone in this city who could make a difference, I bet it would be Pope. Just too bad his first attempt led to the Riots. Plus, he's going up against Callaghan._"

She chose not to answer, in fact barely hearing him as she moved further into the building, following the signs that pointed towards the elevators. The off-whites became light, monotonous greens, trimmed in black. Aside from a few doors, plaques, LCD monitors displaying RP&A: Robert Pope & Associates screensavers, and the occasional abstract artwork of lines and color, Faith met no one.

She reached the elevators, then called one. A painted section of the carpet indicated this was marketing, floor twenty-six. Pope's office was ten floors above that.

The interior of the elevator was painted the same as the hallway. A news screen slowly scrolled upward, filled with the usual cloned stories and advertisements, all colored that same shade of digital green. A female voice startled her from the speakers above her, but the sickly sweet southern girl's voice was only a recording advertising the New Eden shopping mall that had opened last week.

"Merc," she said quietly. "Let me deal with this. I'll keep an open channel, alright? See if you can slice into the cameras and keep an eye out."

"_Alright. Remember, this is a crime scene, so don't take too long. I don't know what's keeping CPF back, but they'll show up sooner or later. I'll keep an ear on the wire for you._"

The elevator reached the thirty-sixth floor, and Faith cautiously stepped out. The room opened up into a foyer, leading to several offices and halls, all of which were empty. Pope's office had the primo view of both the office floor and city on the level above. She jogged up the steps, moved down the length of landing, and stepped into the executive office.

It was wide and spacious with the latest designer furniture, soft curves instead of the harsh edges that built the building. All four walls were mostly glass; two looked over the impressive cityscape that was still gaining color in the sun, the others into the foyer and offices. Despite the cleanliness, it was somewhat messed, with overflowing boxes and posters strewn about advertising "_Vote Robert Pope_!" and other campaign jargon pushed into the far corner.

She had been visible through the glass wall that overlooked the foyer, but Kate Connors didn't notice her until she was already in the room, probably because she was fervently looking out the window and chewing on her knuckle. Whether it was some invisible reflex, or if she had heard Faith's silent steps she turned away from the window, her eyes wide in surprise.

Her fraternal twin sister looked as pristine as she last remembered, her black hair in a crisp bun, without so much a wrinkle in the blue CPF uniform she wore; short, Asian-American, with a wiry, but athletic build. Quite the opposite from herself: shaggy, tattooed, and unkempt.

Faith's eyes were wide, too. There was a body slumped on the desk in front of Kate, a single gunshot wound to the side of the head.

"Kate?" she asked incredulously.

"What…what are you doing here?" she asked back in equal shock. "How did-"

"Oh God," Faith said, covering her mouth at what ran through her mind. "Did you…?"

"No!" she cried, looking horrified. "I would never do that to him!" When she looked blank, she added, "You don't recognize him?"

"Ah, should I?" Her nerves began to calm when she saw that Kate was alright. However, there was that habitual caution when she saw the blue uniform and the bright, shiny silver badge high on her breast. It bore the slogan '_The City We Serve, the People We Protect_', the CPF motto. Blues wearing the same attire were shooting at her less than half a day ago. But this was her sister.

"It's Robert Pope. You know, friend of Dad's? Ten years ago?"

"Oh, shit," she swore. "That Pope. I was wondering why the name sounded familiar."

She stepped closer to the desk, trying to get a better look at him, but he was mostly facedown, with a blood pool still wet across the desk. All she could make out were the lines of gray hair along the side of his temples, and the wound where the bullet entered. His eyes, glassy and lifeless, were still open, sending a chill down her spine. She looked away, back to Kate.

Kate sank into one of the trendy white chairs, running her white-gloved hands over the smooth curve of her hair. "I just don't know what happened. He called me early this morning, when I was on patrol. We hadn't talked much after the Riots and after I joined CPF, but he had a break-in last week, and wanted me to come over and take a statement. I thought it was a little odd, because no one on his campaign called about it earlier."

"Campaign?" Faith asked. That must have been what the posters and ads in the corner were for.

"He was opposing Callaghan in the next election for mayor." Faith still looked blank, and Kate rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever read the news?"

"It's not news anymore, it's advertising," she replied flatly, finally remembering what Merc had said. The city only showed what they wanted the public to see. "If he was running for mayor, then the break in must have spooked him. Did he say what happened?"

"That's what I thought," Kate said. "But it didn't sound like anything important, just some vandals. I took his statement, and he asked about Dad, then…asked after you."

"Really?" Faith asked in surprise. "I haven't seen him since ten years ago. Why did he ask about me?"

Kate got up and began to pace. Even when she had been sitting, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I don't know, I never got a chance to ask him. We were sitting and talking, right here. I was tired, but I've been pulling a lot of shifts recently, and everything just sort of fades out. The next thing I know, I'm waking up, and he's dead."

The word dead pitched higher as her voice cracked in stress. Between the two of them Kate was always the levelheaded one, the one who stayed calm. A sense of dread washed over her.

"Our guns have fifteen rounds in a mag," she said, patting her sidearm. "My holster's release was loose when I woke up, and when I checked, I only had fourteen in the clip."

Whoever killed Pope had used Kate's gun. This was a setup.

"I left my radio in the car," she moaned. "I haven't even been able to call it in."

So who called in the shots fired over the radio?

Instinctively, Faith grabbed Kate's hand, pulling her towards the door. "Come on. I'll get you somewhere safe."

To her surprise, Kate flung her hand away. "This isn't the time to run! I'm not like you. If I run away, it'll just make me look guilty."

Faith laughed, but it came out more like a scoff. Kate knew what was going on, but she was blinded by her own ideals. The city's ideals. "You think this was an accident, Kate? There are no accidents in this city. Somebody wanted _him_ dead, and _you_ to take the fall for it!"

"_Faith._" It was Merc. "_Wire's buzzing. Blues are inbound to that address. You might want to be outgoing in about, oh, ten minutes ago!_"

She turned and began to storm out of the office. If Kate didn't want her help, then she could pick up the pieces on her own. She would realize too late that the CPF wouldn't cut her any slack with all the evidence stacked against her, and Faith wasn't going to hang around to let CPF scoop her up. Faint sirens began to waft up from the streets far below, a sure sign to any Runner that the time for standing around was over.

"Help me Effy, please…"

Kate's small whisper stopped her dead in her tracks. When she turned, she didn't look like a capable police officer; instead, she looked like the scared little girl in the middle of the November Riots as their mother was trampled by the mob; lost and frozen, unsure of what to do.

"You've got contacts," she continued. "There's gotta be more to this. Pope wanted to tell me something. Something he knew got him killed."

She winced. She could help Kate by keeping her safe, but getting her hands in city business was dangerous. Runners weren't legal, and any testimony she had wasn't good. "Kate…I can't get mixed up in this…I just…" She sighed hard. Why was she even considering saying no? "I'll see what I can do."

Kate looked relieved. Still scared, but relieved all the same. "Pope had a diary in his hands when I blacked out. He said he was adding some last minute entry, and now it's gone." She motioned for her to come closer to the body, then pointed to his hand. "But it looks like he's holding a scrap of it in his hand."

She gently pried the torn piece of paper out of his hand, then handed it to Faith. There wasn't much on the crumpled surface, other than some words stopped by the tear:_ Icaru/ To the hig/_. She stuffed it into the pocket of her cargo pants for later.

"Listen," Kate continued. "If this goes down badly, go to Lieutenant Miller. He's my superior at the precinct. I know what you think of CPF, but he's a good man. He'll listen."

"_Faith, I'm serious_," Merc growled. "_Remember, they ain't playing nice_."

"Kate-" Faith began, but she interrupted her.

"Get going, backup will be here any minute." Her eyes dropped. "And Faith? Thank you."

The cop was back, but she looked more tired than ever before. Circles seem to grow beneath her eyes under the thin veil of foundation she wore, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. By God, she was going to keep her trust in the system.

Faith leaned forward, placing her arms around her shoulders in a comforting hug. It felt good to be that close to her, to hold her firmly. She wished she could hold it longer, maybe say something a little comforting, but she didn't know what. The five minutes they spent just now was more time they had been together in ten years, but the sirens had since reached their peak and stopped.

Reluctantly, she let go, took one last fleeting look at her sister, and then jogged out the door. As she moved down the landing, about to radio Merc for directions, the elevator opened with a ding, and half a dozen armored SWAT Blues filed out.

"Oh shit," she swore in panic, then bolted down to the other side of the landing.

"Freeze!" one of them screamed as the entire unit trained automatic weapons on her.

She vaulted the railing, sinking to the floor in a crouch, then broke into a dead sprint. The Blues opened fire.


	4. Flight Part 2

**Flight (Part 2)**

Automatic weapons barked loudly in the empty office, almost deafening her. Faith narrowly made it past a corner as the rounds shredded the wall, windows, and floor where she had landed seconds ago. Behind her, she heard one of the Blues yell the order to pursue, but she was already halfway down the hall, legs pumping hard.

"_SWAT's swarming all over you Faith, get the hell out of there!_" Merc yelled in her ear.

She blew past a set of display cases, rounding another corner. As she hopped another low case housing a diorama of the city skyline, the solid wall to her left became a fogged, glass wall. There were dark shapes moving behind it, and a second later, the gunfire returned. The first few shots punched holes that spiderwebbed, and then the whole wall came down as the cops formed a firing line, filling the air with deadly lead.

She jumped another display case as drywall disintegrated around her; it was against one of the support columns that dotted the room, and as she passed it, she jumped and kicked off of it. It gave her just enough cover as she grabbed the railing of a walkway above her, and with the adrenaline coursing through her body, she clambered up and over. The Blues moved in to get a clear shot, and she had barely made it over the railing before one last round zinged over her shoulder. They would have to take the stairs at the end of the room in order to pursue.

"_Okay, got the plans up, should be a vent in accounting big enough to put some space between you and them_."

The elevators she passed had panels that glowed an angry red, signifying they were offline. For as long as it took CPF to get here, they were certainly prepared to lock the building down…just another indication that this wasn't normal. The Blues had moved in way too fast with way too much firepower.

Faith sprinted down a short length of hall, passing a wall plaque that said Accounting. Merc had said vent. She looked up and spotted not a vent, but a hole cut into the wall; the kind that let natural light filter in from the skylight one room over. She scaled the short wall, pulling herself up past a row of aesthetic fake plants that were in need of a good dusting.

Once through the hole, she dropped to the other side, into another portion of the accounting offices. The vent that led out was on the other side of the room, conveniently next to an overhanging beam which she easily reached. This far into an untagged and uncharted building, she had to kick the grate off before scrabbling into the industrial-sized ventilation shaft.

Merc continued to guide her from the headset through the winding maze of dusty, dark tunnels. If she took the wrong turn in a ventilation system, a sharp sudden drop could snap a leg, leaving her trapped until the Blues fished her out.

Or she could just fall and break her neck.

The maze lasted only a short while, but as she slid down the last drop, a crackle of radio static wafted up through a grate. She tried to move slowly and quietly, but even her light weight caused the thin metal panels to sag and groan with a loud wumpf as she scuttled over them.

Gunfire rang out without warning, peppering the vent ahead of her with holes of light, and the air filled with dust and beams of light from below. Faith gasped in panic and darted forward, ignoring the pulls the jagged holes took at her arms and pants as more controlled bursts turned the vent into Swiss cheese. The exit to the vent lay just ahead, and she crashed forward into open air, managing to roll as she hit the ground in a daze.

She thought that was it, that they had her, but her luck kept going. They were in the previous room, and there was a wall between her and the Blues with no door.

"_Move it Faith!_" Merc barked, probably from noticing her not moving on GPS. "_They've got a chopper inbound._"

As she got to her feet and started moving, the telltale _thwocking_ of a helicopter's rotor and blades began to beat through the glass. A CPF patrol unit edged from the skyline, heading straight for the skyscraper.

"Door ahead leads outside. You can slide down the skylight to next door. The gap's short."

Slide down the what?

Heavy footsteps echoed from the hall to her left. She didn't hesitate any longer and bolted forward to the door. As soon as she kicked through it, she realized what Merc meant. She was on another balcony, and over the railing spanned the sloped glass ceiling that comprised the lower half of the skyscraper. The chopper rounded the corner and immediately spotted her.

"_Do not run!_" screamed a Blue over a bullhorn, but she had already vaulted the railing as soon she was through the door.

Thick glass held stiff against her ass and thigh as she landed on the incline, and her fall and forward speed immediately put her into motion. The glass of the building acted like a giant slide, and she was quickly picking up speed. Frames between the glass drummed against her leg and hip faster and faster as the edge approached. The rubber of her Loggos squeaked as she tried to hold herself straight with her feet and keep her speed in check.

There was no guardrail at the end. It was just a sheer plummet twenty or thirty stories to lethal pavement below. Faith gritted her teeth, and at the last minute, slammed her feet against the glass and jumped, hoping she didn't jump too soon. The momentum was more than enough to cover the small gap, but it sent her into a tumbling roll onto the next roof.

On her feet, she started moving again. The chopper had a clear line of sight on her, and as she weaved between a series of air conditioning units towards the edge of the next roof, a gunner fired a few shots that seemed too close to be warning shots. The gun also sounded big, like a heavy machine gun.

"_South one block. Building renovations should give you some room for movement. City Eye Channel News will be right in front of you. Your exit's on the second floor skywalk._"

She mentally filed that into her mind, most of her focus devoted to keeping her feet moving and locked on the Flow. Like Merc said, some scaffolding gave her some room to maneuver, and with it, she jumped to the next building, hugging the wall as she rounded the corner into a tight gap between buildings.

The chopper stayed on her the entire time, tracking her movements. With it following her, she wouldn't be able to escape. It would always relay her position to the Blues on the streets, and she couldn't keep running forever.

The scaffolding on the building eventually vanished. She hopped a vent, then jumped to a fire escape on the next building. There was only one short jump between her and the CEC News building. Its telltale orange sign and swirly eye-shaped logo welcomed her with a digital scroller, showing the latest stock prices and news updates mixed in with a quite a few ads. _The latest in digital entertainment! (Brought to you by Raposa!)._

The last stretch of roof before the jump was lined with solar panels. The _thwock_ of helicopter rotors was still audible, but she couldn't see the craft itself. As she ran across, a burst of gunfire sounded, and bullets punched through the panels ahead of her and around her. Reflective plastic and silicon sparkled in the early sunlight as it showered her in stinging bits and pieces. Faith threw her arm up over her eyes, lest it blind her while she was about to jump.

She hopped the ledge half-blind, landing with a clumsy roll into a planter that someone hadn't bothered to water in some time. Dirt and dry weeds stuck to her shoulders as she sprang for the door, but no more shots sounded. The chopper had veered off, the buildings coming too close together for the pilot to keep a line of sight on her. With a kick of her leg, she knocked the door open and ran inside.

A long hallway greeted her, bare concrete bricks painted white and trimmed with a soothing red near the floor. It looked like a maintenance area or access hallway, with an intersection halfway down leading to some piping. At the end of it, she spotted an elevator and started towards it, but no sooner was she a quarter of the way down, the elevator dinged and open. Half a dozen Blues stepped out, two of them carrying automatic weapons.

_Shit!_

Faith slipped into the intersection just in time. No shouts, no shots. There was a patter of boots as she moved behind the piping, circling around them. It looked like the elevator was her only way out, and while she could take a risk with a helicopter, she would never make it with cops at her heels and a clear shot at her back.

It would be only seconds until they found her, but the area behind the pipes was blocked by a utility fence, guarding a wall of circuit breakers and other panels. Without even pausing, she swung herself up and over, then sprinted for the still-open elevator, knowing full well they had heard her.

One of them yelled first, but she couldn't make out what he said. Probably something about stopping or shooting. She mashed the door button as the first shot rang out, the loud, sharp crack of a handgun. It was soon followed by the rapid chatter of automatics until it was just one loud, terrible sound of ricocheting lead off concrete and metal.

She jerked and dropped to the floor as the doors began to close. The sound turned into hail on metal, and just as soon as it had started, it stopped. The doors had shut, and she was moving downward. She didn't even remember hitting a floor on the panel.

"_Faith…Faith!_"

Merc's panicked yell brought her back to where she was, and she let out a hard, quivering breath. The elevator doors were covered in dents from the assault of bullets, as was the inside of the car. A cold chill went down her spine as she took it all in. How had she survived that? And how was CPF able to head her off like that?

She gulped more air into her lungs, a burning sensation suddenly taking over her chest. Her body was drenched in sweat, every limb hot.

"_Yeah, just breathe Faith…Damn, what a mess. Can't believe Pope is dead…Shit, man, this damn city_." There was an odd rustling sound through her earpiece, like he was running his hands over his face and jostling his headset. He sounded a little shaken up himself. "_Looks like you opened a can of worms on this one._"

That was putting it lightly.

"_Okay…_" Merc sighed hard. "_Take the skywalk across the way, then down a floor and take the bridge to Centurion Plaza. You should be able to lose them there. I put in a call to Kreeg, he'll meet you there._"

She nodded to no one in particular, trying to get the rhythm of her breathing down again. She knew Centurion Plaza; it was an open court on the edge of one of the downtown train stations, eventually turning into a few levels of food shops that ringed the actual station. If she could make it there, she could shake the Blues easily in the tunnels.

The elevator dinged, the doors opening, and Faith was off again. It was only mid-morning, and the studio was mostly quiet, at least on the level she was at. She wasn't familiar with the station, but she figured most of the early morning staff would on the first level. How the Blues factored into that and managed to head her off had yet to be seen.

There were no cops waiting for her as she ran down the empty corridors. Everything was carpeted or painted in a shade of uniform orange or black. No in-betweens.

Her pace faltered, then stopped altogether as she passed a row of monitors, all showing the same feed. It was the early morning news broadcast, with live footage of the RP&A building where she had been only minutes before. Merc growled at her to keep moving, but she lingered for a few seconds longer.

"_We have a breaking story here at City Eye Channel News_," an unseen reporter was saying. "_Attorney and mayoral candidate Robert Pope was found shot to death in his West Arlington office early this morning. City Protection Force has not released any details yet, but they do have a suspect in custody. Further updates will be available soon…_"

"Goddammit," Faith swore, then started running again. Everything screamed setup. The cops showed up conveniently to take Kate in, and they already had a news story all laid out only minutes later. It made her sick and furious at what the city was doing.

The skyway crossed over to the next building, also part of the CEC News building. Through the glass on the street below, blue lights were flashing as sirens wailed. The Blues were starting to catch up from the RP&A building.

She vaulted a railing, bypassing a staircase and falling one floor down, landing with a roll. The door to a balcony was straight ahead, so she barreled through it. The entrance to Centurion Plaza lay on the other side of a pedestrian overpass that spanned over part of one of the interstates. Faith hopped the railing, falling just a few feet to a slanted overhang that dropped her right on the overpass.

Normally, at such a time on a weekday, the streets would be packed so close to the CEC News building, but in the distance, she could see police roadblocks on the perimeter of the plaza, warding off traffic and pedestrians. Fatigue already began to gel her movements, especially after the brief respite of inactivity in the elevator, but she still powered on.

"_Take the tunnel, you can lose 'em in there. Security cameras are showing no cops inside. The food courts aren't even open this early._"

She hopped over the railing at the end of the overpass, dropping to the plaza across from the CEC News building. Squad cars pulled up on the road ahead of her, but she was already halfway across the plaza, and not even heading that way. A tunnel in the corner that led to the main plaza was just ahead, lighted in pink neon lights still running from the overnight hours.

She ducked inside, Merc providing her directions as tunnels veered in all directions, forming a maze of neon pink and blue. Some even had lowered gates she had to slide under, forcing her to waste precious speed and only tiring her further.

"_You don't want to know what's behind you, just keep moving,_" Merc muttered. She wasn't sure if that was supposed to help, or if he had even meant to transmit that to her.

She rounded the corner, into Centurion Plaza proper. Most of the shops and stands were empty and devoid of pedestrians, save for some janitorial staff picking trash up from the yellow colored bricks. A high rise rose abruptly from the left, and banners, flags, and billboards lined the walls.

No sooner did she make for the tracks did she see the pair of cops. They almost seemed to have appeared from nowhere, stepping from behind the columns of the high rise. Both of them were armed with handguns, which were up in a flash.

Faith didn't stop, she just reacted, using the Flow to keep her speed going. She dropped into a slide, raising her foot high, and caught the first cop in the stomach. He doubled over with a grunt, allowing her to get to her feet and vault over his back. The second cop was either too stunned to react, or worried about his partner in his line of fire, but it was enough for her to jump and kick him square in the face, shattering his sunglasses and nose.

The first cop quickly recovered, but she caught his arm as he brought his gun around and plucked it out of his hand, then pulled him down, driving his head into her knee. He fell only feet from his partner.

Then she was moving again, pitching the gun to the side and making for the tracks in a dead sprint. Her legs ached, but she kept moving, up the steps that led to the platform, then scaling the wall to get to the track access. The high tension wire that led to the walkway on the other side was visible just a short way down the tracks.

"_Patching Kreeg in now._"

Her earpiece rang as a frequency was added. "_Faith, it's Kreeg,_" said a milder, younger voice. "_I'm in the food court just off of the plaza._"

Just as she started moving along the rail overpass to get to the zipline, the CPF chopper dipped down between two buildings, slowly panning to one side. She could clearly see the gunner in the side, turning the vehicles machine gun towards her as the pilot lined up his shot.

She dove for the cable just as he opened fire.

The cable beneath her glove burned hot as friction picked up, but the swing in her legs threw her off balance. She held onto it too long, missed the landing, and went sailing over the railing down a sloped glass skylight. Directions became blurred, and despite her desperate attempts to slow her speed or gain control, she couldn't. Then, she felt weightless.

The next thing she felt was impact, then pain as she crashed through another skylight just below the slanted one. Glass shards filled the air like a million little diamonds scratching at her skin, falling with her for who knew how far.

It hurt when she hit the ground, but she fell slightly on her side, rather than her back or neck, and didn't even fall on her arms or legs. Glass poured over her, and she instinctively covered her face with her arms. Everything hurt, from her head to her toes, and a dull throbbing was threatening to break her head apart.

Through blurred vision, she saw through the skylight and the jagged hole she had made. The chopper passed overhead slowly, though she didn't know if it was moving that slow, or if things were just moving in slow motion. The rotors were a dull thwock in her ears, working in tandem with the internal pounding. She tried to draw a breath, but all the air was gone from her lungs, and her ribcage felt like it was squeezing them together.

Movement swam into the edges of her blurred vision; a large, Nigerian man in an orange muscle shirt and black track pants. It took her a second to recognize Kreeg, waving his hand in front of her face. She tried her voice, but nothing came out, then tried again.

"…Oooww…" she croaked.

Kreeg said something, which sounded like an echo, but slowly sharpened. "…aith, can you move? Yeah, Merc, she's here, just took a bad fall."

"Really hurts," she gasped, but things were starting to make more sense. Lines became sharper, sensations grew more vibrant, and noises grew louder…particularly the police sirens.

"Hold still," Kreeg said quickly. "Let me make sure you're not injured."

He squatted next to her and gave her a once over, feeling her legs and arms, working off of her feedback. Nothing felt broken or cracked, just sore all over. Once he was satisfied, he helped her gingerly to her feet. Kreeg was a big guy, as big if not bigger than Merc, and probably could have carried her out of there if he needed to. Fortunately, it looked like he didn't.

Faith was able to stand on her own two feet after a second, and wincing at first, started off with a slow jog after Kreeg. Her muscles loosened again, and things didn't hurt quite as bad after the initial shock of the fall. At least her head wasn't swimming anymore.

Kreeg led her deeper into Centurion Plaza, eventually into the underground train tunnels. The sirens became more and more faint, until they stopped altogether.

"_Faith, got an exit from the tunnels for you coming up, you can double back and get back home from there._" said Merc from her earpiece. Then he paused. "_And Faith? Don't worry about this thing with your sister. We'll fix it._"

Faith really hoped he was right.


	5. CPF Part 1

**CPF (Part 1)**

Lieutenant Cameron Miller was in the middle of early morning rush hour traffic when he got the news. It had been so sudden that he had nearly slammed into the car ahead of him when Moreno called and told him the news. Kate had been arrested on suspicion of murder?

"What?" he exclaimed, trying to find the cup holder for his coffee while balancing his phone against his shoulder and ear. The car behind him honked angrily when the traffic ahead moved on without him. "Murder?"

"Si, _boss, I said murder. That's what the rumor is, at least. A squad from the twelfth just locked her up in holding downtown. I think it happened earlier this morning. Asked for details from the Captain, and he gave me the cold shoulder_."

Miller growled in frustration. "Meet me at my parking spot, I'll be there in…I'll be there in a few minutes, once I'm through damn downtown. Just wait for me!"

The rest of the drive couldn't go fast enough, but downtown rush hour traffic was some of the worst in the city. He had to fight it every morning to get to the precinct, and with the bomb that Moreno dropped in his lap, everything seemed to move even slower. Mercifully, he finally pulled into the underground lot of the fourteenth precinct, knuckles tight on the wheel, foot a little heavier on the gas.

Abella Moreno, one of his subordinates, was waiting next to his parking spot when he pealed in, nervously biting her nails as she paced the spot back and forth. She was short, but stocky for a Hispanic woman. Seeing the worry on her face didn't make Miller feel any better; usually, she was one of the more weathered of his officers. Seeing her nervous made him nervous.

As he pulled in, he almost sloshed his coffee onto his pristine white dress slacks. He cursed, then tightened the lid on the cup. It ultimately didn't matter, because he forgot the drink in the cup holder after he grabbed his blazer from the passenger seat and exited his car.

"Moreno, what the hell is going on?" he demanded as he exited his car. Once the door was shut, he locked it with the remote on his keyring and immediately made for the elevator.

Moreno shook her head as she fell into step with him. She had to take a jog every few paces to match his long, hurried stride. "_No tengo_. I got in this morning, and the place was buzzing. I asked what for, and they said Kate was involved in a shooting, and that she was arrested. That's all I got, but some of them were calling it murder. I tried to get more out of the Chief, but he wouldn't tell me anything. That's when I called you. _Esto es un desastre_, it's all over the news!"

He never listened to the news, radio or otherwise, which would probably explain why this was the first he heard of it.

"They're holding her downtown you said?" he clarified as they filed into the elevator together. "Why not at the twelve?"

Moreno shrugged. "_No tengo_. Not enough space, maybe because she's a cop? They've got to be careful with these things. A cop could get shanked pretty fast in a public lockup."

He thumbed the button for the fifth floor, which housed the main operations center and his office, wishing it moved faster than it did. He needed to get downtown and straighten the matter out. If it hadn't been for a few things he needed in his office, he would have headed straight there. Like Moreno said, lockup was nowhere for a woman of the law like Kate to be. There was her pride, for one, but the reality was, it was just dangerous, like she had said. He hoped the eleventh precinct was aware of that…

The doors opened up, and he and Moreno stepped over the City Protection Force crest on the white tile floor into the room that served as the hub for the fourteenth precinct. _The People We Serve, the City We Protect_ greeted all who stepped off the elevator with comforting arms. The level consisted mostly of open desks and cubicles, with one section devoted to interview rooms. A few of the higher officers had the luxury of a private office, but most everyone had to deal with shared work space. Homicide, vice, and some of the labs had the floors above, with administration below. Lockup and the armory were located in the subbasements.

Like Moreno had said, it was busy, with officers darting back and forth as he moved through, but it seemed like a typical day so far. With the advanced surveillance network the city possessed, it was easier to be in more places at one time, but that meant more demanding work, higher levels of overtime, and more staff overlaps. Everyone was always busy. The building was a proverbial hub, just one of the city's many, continuously taking in new information and pumping it back out, with no clear start or end to the cycle. Newcomers or transfers just had to step in the flow and learn quickly.

It all worked out in the end though. The crime rate had been dropping the past few years at a steady and considerable rate.

Most of the staff and officers wore the official blue uniforms of the City Protection Force, decorated with their silver badges, though higher ranks tended to favor their own choice in clothes. Miller had earned more than a few nicknames he was willing to overlook for his usual attire, which consisted of white slacks, a white dress shirt and a white vest. His own badge blended in on his front breast pocket, silver on white nearly invisible.

Despite any nicknames though, he commanded an air of respect, with a broad frame and a face that was lined with age, stress, and experience. His hair had turned to white and gray sooner than he would have liked, however, but an ironic silver lining was that at least it matched his suit.

"Moreno, get Bradley and meet me at the elevator in five minutes," he said tersely, heading for his office. "I want you both with me downtown." Moreno chirped her assent, then jogged off to find her partner amidst the morning fray in the station.

His office looked out over the corner of the precinct, with a view of one of the main city streets below. When he opened the fogged glass door that bore his title and name, he stopped abruptly in the doorway.

"Who are you?" he demanded to the figure standing by the window, sipping a mug of coffee. "What are you doing in my office?"

The figure turned. It was a man; Miller profiled him between forty and fifty years old, about the same age as himself, though shorter, with brown salt and pepper hair. His face was rounded, as was the rest of his frame; definitely not a cop, dressed in a navy suit and tie, but as he moved, he caught sight of a holster beneath his arm and the butt of a gun. Miller tensed out of reflex, but he didn't make any threatening moves.

The man offered a smile and stepped forward, shifting his mug to the other hand as he extended it. "Lieutenant Miller, a pleasure to meet you," he said. "Derek Kruger, CEO of Pirandello/Kruger Private Security."

"Private security…" Miller repeated slowly, taking Kruger's hand and shaking it equally as slow. "What are you doing in my office?" he repeated.

"Ah yes, well, as the supervisor of this precinct, I'm sure you've already heard about the incident involving one of your officers?" he asked back.

Miller's eyes narrowed as he released his grip from the handshake. Private security wasn't a part of the city's organizations; they were pay-for-hire run by corporate suits. So why, and how, did he already know about what had happened? If he was visiting the station though, he might have just caught wind of it through word of mouth. Moreno had said that everyone was talking about it.

"I'm aware there was a situation, but I believe it's a misunderstanding, or the result of someone not getting the facts straight. I was just on my way to work on fixing the problem." He cleared his throat expectantly. "Now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Kruger, I have some things to take care of. If you have questions pertaining to a case involving your organization, I can direct you to legal, but this floor is reserved for operations, and you're standing in my private office."

That was the cue for him to get the hell out, but Kruger didn't move. He just sipped from his cup again, watching him. The corners of his mouth were tipped ever so slightly upward, as if he was trying not to smirk at something, but Miller was busy unlocking his desk drawer to notice or really care what he was doing. He was wasting time, and Kate was waiting for him in lockup.

Inside the drawer were his personal sidearms, two .45 caliber semi-automatics. The guns were chambered larger than the standard nine millimeter CPF sidearms, and steel plated to match the silver of his badge. He slipped both of these into the holsters beneath his arms, the spare magazines going into their place on his belt. He then dug out his radio, clipping it to his belt and threading the earpiece under his vest to his ear.

"You sure are in a hurry to move out, Lieutenant," Kruger remarked mildly.

Miller's brow furrowed, his back turned to him. When he turned, he tried to keep his face civil, but it was difficult. "You would be in a hurry if one of your colleagues was in the situation that mine is in, Mr. Kruger. If you would please remove yourself from my office, I have to go downtown and resolve a misunderstanding."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Lieutenant."

Miller turned to see his captain, Mike Briggs, standing in his doorway and instantly straightened in respect. Though he technically was in charge of the precinct, Briggs was his supervisor, the man who put him there, and ultimately had final say in anything that went on. He was tall and dark skinned, a former military officer, and that was the kind of experience that Miller trusted, but what he just said seemed foreign to his ears.

"Excuse me, sir?" Miller asked. "I don't think I understand…"

"Officer Connors was arrested this morning under the pretense of murder," he said. "Since she's one of our own, I don't want anyone from her precinct going in to talk to her until homicide gets a few things down."

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "Sir, with all due respect, this is a mistake. I've known Kate for years, and she's an honest cop. She's my subordinate, and therefore my responsibility. If I could just go down and have a talk with her, I'm sure I can resolve this."

"Robert Pope was found dead in his office this morning," said Briggs. "Connors was found at the scene, off her scheduled patrol with a light weapon. We have to wait for ballistics from the lab, but the spent casing recovered matches the make in her weapon, standard CPF munitions." He looked at Miller coldly. "This doesn't look good for her."

Miller rubbed his eyes in frustration, trying to wrap his head around what he just heard. Kate had been found with a fired weapon and a dead mayoral candidate?

"Pope's dead? And you're saying that Kate is the prime suspect? That doesn't make any sense! What about a motive? Why would Kate do something like that?"

"You know about her past, Lieutenant, and I should remind you of the strings I had to pull to get her on duty. She's former _Libertas_, and she participated in the riots. She could know dozens of politically motivated individuals, some of which may even work for the CPF like her. She had a history with Pope, and you know it wasn't a good one.

"What do you mean?" Miller asked, still trying to make out how Kate's past fit into the picture. "From what I understand, she was working alone last night. You think she's been seeing someone outside of the force?"

"It looks that way," Kruger said suddenly. "CPF pursued another suspect this morning when they arrived at the scene. About the same age as Officer Connors, Asian female, distinctive tattoos on the arm and face. She managed to get away, despite the force's, ah, best attempts to pursue and apprehend."

"You seem to be awfully well informed for a civilian," Miller said, rounding on him. That settled it; listening to news stories were one thing, but it sounded like he had access to police reports. Just who was this man? "Would you remind me again why you are here, Mr. Kruger?"

"You're right, I am well informed, and good friends with Mayor Callaghan," he said with a smile, as if that was more than enough reason. "He asked me personally after a meeting with the Chief of Police to step in and offer my services."

Miller shot a questioning look to Briggs, but he only nodded in agreement.

"You see, Lieutenant Miller," Kruger continued. "I received a very urgent phone call from Mayor Callaghan this morning…very_ early_ this morning. He told me he was concerned with the security of the CPF and the safety of the city, and this incident only serves to strengthen that concern."

Miller glared at him. He still hadn't lost that subtle smirk. He wasn't outright smiling, but there was almost an amused look in his eyes and a slight upward shift in the corners of his mouth, like he was waiting for the world's biggest prank to play out.

He looked like trouble.

"Would you mind elaborating?" he asked dryly.

"Simply put, you had an officer that was involved with _Libertas_, a group that attempted to overthrow the city officials years ago, and now that same officer is a likely suspect in the murder of a former key figure of that group, now a prominent politician." His eyes suddenly seemed to grow duller, becoming emotionless, and almost…predatory? "We can't have that kind of people protecting the citizens of this city, now can we? Officer Connors is just one woman, but who knows how many like her extend through the ranks of the CPF?"

"I received a similar call from the mayor," Briggs said to Miller before he could respond. "Effective immediately, we are to integrate Pirandello/Kruger staff and resources into all precincts and districts."

Miller's jaw nearly dropped. "Integrate a private security firm into the city's police force? Are you serious?"

"Oh, we are very serious, Lieutenant," Kruger said. "The mayor enjoys his sleep, and so do I. Having PK backing the police force will guarantee that he gets a good night's rest, especially this close to the election. After your people allowed a suspect to get away, I think there's _plenty_ we can do to help."

Miller bared his teeth, then stepped closer to his captain, lowering his voice. "Sir, private security are little more than mercenaries! What does the mayor think this will accomplish?"

"We need to start bolstering the city's security," Briggs replied, unfazed by his distance. "This precinct is a shining example of the effectiveness of the CPF, largely in part to your work, but it's not enough for a city this size, and this incident with Connors just started a brush fire. A politician was killed this morning, and it's looking like a cop was behind it; the people don't want to hear that. We also screwed up by letting a suspect get away; if Callaghan wants satisfaction by hiring private security, then I sure as hell won't stop him."

"Let's not forget the Runners," Kruger added, who had stepped closer to eavesdrop. "My people can help with them as well."

Miller blanked. "Runners?"

"Surely, you've had some reports of an organized group of men and women acting as a supply line to bypass the city's information net?" he elaborated. When Miller looked blank, he gave an irritated role of his eyes, which he returned with a glare. "They appear to favor rooftops for their means of travel. Keeps them off the streets. I believe the CPF has overlooked their presence as petty vagrants who leave some graffiti here and there, but mark my words, they have broken most of the city's cyberlaws in information trafficking."

The description sounded vaguely familiar. He might have seen a report that detailed similar characteristics of individuals free-running on private property, or reports of sparse graffiti on rooftop walls and subway tunnels. It all seemed irrelevant, and nothing indicated that they were an organized group of computer hackers like Kruger claimed called 'Runners'. If that were the case, crime rates would be spiking through the roof.

He let it go. Kruger was getting under his skin enough as it was, and he didn't want to let him egg him on further by trying to tell him how to protect the city from hoodlums. That didn't stop him from hoping that his growing dislike for the man was clearly obvious.

Captain Briggs seemed to sense the tension between the two of them. "Derek, why don't we go over some things? You can use my phone and have your people forward some material to Lieutenant Miller. That might put his mind at ease."

Kruger nodded, though it looked almost reluctant, then turned to Miller again. "I assure you, PK is one of the finest security firms in the country. You'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Oh, I can't wait," Miller replied sarcastically.

Briggs shot him a look, but left it at that. "Take some time to cool your head. You've never been a big fan of change. This is for the good of the city." He stopped on his way out the door, turning to look over his shoulder. "And Cam, let homicide deal with Connors…that's an order. We'll talk about it later."

Miller drew his mouth in a line. Briggs was asking, no, ordering him to stay away from Kate.

"...Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir, I understand," he said tightly. There wasn't anything else he could say.

Briggs left, and Kruger meandered to the door as well, taking in Miller's office around him, almost as if he were sizing it up.

"I look forward to working with you," he said brightly, offering his hand. Miller didn't take it, instead curling his into a warning fist at his side. "…or not. Be seeing you around, Lieutenant."

Miller fought the urge to slam the door after him, then leaned heavily against his desk, running his hands over his hair. This wasn't right…not by a long shot. Kate wanders off her patrol route and suddenly ends up the prime suspect in an abrupt murder? He could believe the former part; Kate always had something of a curious spirit that she couldn't seem to get rid of, but the latter was simply impossible. And now, hours later, the mayor decides to bring in hired mercenaries to bolster the police force. The city was always in a constant state of change and renewal, but this was too fast.

Something else was going on.


	6. Jacknife Part 1

**Jacknife (Part 1)**

It was mid-morning, the city's colors starting to come out in full, and she had been sprinting since dawn after dodging bullets and fell through a skylight in the process. Faith was not a happy camper as she made her way back to Merc's lair, starting to crash from the initial adrenaline rush. The route was usually easy and carefree after a day of runs, but now a sense of paranoia washed over her. It felt like someone painted a target on her back, and she was still sore from the fall she took. More than once she caught herself looking over her shoulder for pursuers, and she jerked every time a helicopter buzzed in the distance. Just to be safe, she took the route that she knew had the fewest rooftop cameras.

At last, the unassuming hollowed-out AC unit came into view when she reached the edge of the final rooftop, and it was a welcoming sight. It always felt safe and secure, like an animal's hidden den, hence why they called it a lair. She even went so far as to call it home.

The sunlight streamed over everything in yellow blades through the ventilation covers that now served as windows, highlighting tiny dust particles that got kicked up when she dropped through the ceiling hatch. It looked a little more beaten in the daylight than it did in near darkness now that the sun had come up. Merc was hunched over his desk, his eyes glued to the many computer screens. He didn't even react when she dropped down.

"Merc," she panted, getting back up from her crouch."What the hell is going on?"

"Don't know, kiddo," he answered heavily without taking his eyes off the screens. "Something's got someone spooked. I don't know what, but they're mighty jittery."

She cracked open a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and took a desperate swig. The cold water was refreshing as it ran down her throat and pooled into her stomach. The sweat that drenched her track top and coated her skin finally started to feel cool. After another gulp, she settled up alongside Merc, looking over his broad shoulder. "What about the others?"

Merc changed one of the screens with a keystroke. Three others were running searches through what looked like the CPF databases, as well as local news feeds and social networks. Judging by how fast they were scrolling and changing windows, she guessed he wasn't having much luck in finding what he was searching for. The one he just switched showed a basic map of the city with different GPS receivers slowly converging on separate points.

"Well, you're home safe and sound," he said. "Cel's on her way close by. She said she just bumped into some trouble, but she's still on the roofs and moving this way, so I'm assuming she's clear. Kreeg's going to go bunker down with Drake at his lair, and everyone else should be off the grid. I know Jace and Trance were still out; they got stuck on the other side of the river, but Drake said they were heading towards one of the safehouses. They should be fine."

Faith breathed a sigh of relief and chased it with another gulp of water, finally starting to relax a little. It sounded like she had been the one in the most danger. Everyone else was safe and getting into hiding.

By the time she finished the bottle, there was a soft thump on the roof of the lair, and Celeste's legs lithely slid down the entrance hatch, followed by the rest of her.

"Hey Cel," Merc said, still too focused on his digging to turn around.

Celeste looked fine, but she had a sour look on her face. She didn't look even nearly out of breath, and just went straight to the couch and plopped down.

"Take long to lose them?" Faith asked.

Celeste scoffed. "Nah, those Blues can't run for shit." She pantomimed a gun with her hands. "They've gotten a little gun happy, though. I take it that has something to do with you? Merc gave me some of the details before the cops got a little friendly. What the hell happened?"

Faith gave her the skinny of it, from the time the call came in on the scanner, to arriving at Pope's office, and finishing with the chase through the West Arlington district that ended at Centurion Plaza. Celeste gave an appreciative low whistle.

"And now the wires are fizzing about Pope's death," Merc said, turning in his chair to face them. Faith noticed the growing circles under his eyes. "I just did a little digging and didn't find anything significant that happened in the last couple of days. Now Blue traffic is up, way up, and Pope's death hasn't even been filed yet."

"Must be contract renewal time," Faith muttered.

"So why all the heat?" Celeste asked. "If Pope only died a few hours ago, why is the entire city already on high alert?"

Merc jerked a thumb towards Faith as he passed to grab a new pack of ground coffee from the fridge. "Our girl's been lifting evidence from a crime scene. Pretty sure that's illegal."

"Yeah," she replied defensively, "but I find it a little hard to believe an entire SWAT team showed up to shoot the place up _before_ they could have known I was there. Especially when all I took was this."

To clarify, she wagged the piece of diary at Merc. It felt so small and insignificant when comparing it to the fact that she left her sister behind to get arrested. A pang of guilt ran through her, along with apprehension. There was no way Pope's death was a coincidence. Kate had been left with a smoking gun in her hand.

"That it?" Celeste asked, nodding towards the paper in her hand.

"Yeah. It was from his diary." She glanced at the paper again. It was pretty unremarkable, save for the fact that it was glossy. The incomplete page seemed to be from a fancier book, those ones with shiny limestone paper. The clipped wording on it had been written with a fountain pen. "All I can make out is 'Icarus' and 'to the highest'…maybe."

Celeste's brow furrowed as she held the paper and peered at it closer. "Icarus…wasn't he the Greek guy?"

"Yeah," Merc said. He was working on another cup of coffee and looking through a ventilation cover towards the morning sun. "His Dad made him some wings from feathers and wax. Then he flew too close to the sun…" Merc made a sizzling sound. "…no more wings, no more Icarus."

"Um, the moral?" Celeste asked, clearly unimpressed with Merc's knowledge of Greek mythology.

He shrugged. "Don't know. Could mean a lot of things: don't trust authority, don't stay in the sun without sunscreen, or if you do, make sure what you're flying in isn't made of feathers and wax."

Celeste scowled at the sarcastic remark, but Merc ignored her and continued. "You know Faith, if this was some kind of set up with CPF, some people might know some things."

Faith leaned forward, almost eagerly. _Why didn't he mention this earlier_? "Really?"

He only smirked. "You know who it'll be."

She thought for a second, wondering what he meant. She hated it when Merc played these games. Then it hit her, and her stomach wrenched, and her eagerness disappeared. "No. No, no, no. _No way_."

"I know he ain't a Runner anymore, but he's got contacts," he said patiently. "And besides, you can't avoid him forever."

"Wanna bet?" she muttered, crossing her arms and staring at the wall. Screw Merc's ideas, there was no way she was going to go talk to _him_.

"Uh, who?" Celeste asked, looking like she needed a clue.

Faith glanced at her, then back to the wall and clenched her teeth. "Jacknife."

"Jacknife?" Celeste repeated, the faintest smirk beginning to tug at the corners of her mouth when she picked up on it. "As in Merc and Drake's old partner, as in—"

"Shut up," she growled. Sometimes, the past needed to stay buried. Buried deep.

"There's no telling who he works for now," Merc said. "Whatever or whoever it is, it's probably something sticky, but I'm willing to bet he knows something."

Faith pursed her lips. Jacknife was bad news in more ways than she could count, but then she considered her options. Right now, they had nothing except for a piece of paper with a meaningless Greek name. Then there were those men she ran into the day before, the ones in unmarked black armor and heavy weaponry. They couldn't have been cops, but they knew right where she was going to be, and there was nothing about them in the CPF database. They had to be connected as well.

What was the point in arguing if this could help Kate?

"Alright, fine," she sighed hard. "But I can't promise I won't beat the crap out of him."

* * *

><p>She couldn't believe she was actually trying to track him down. Merc didn't want her to go out so soon, not with what happened after that morning and the Blues still on high alert, but she went out anyway. Mostly just to piss him off. The way she saw it, it seemed pretty fair; if he wanted to dig up the muck in her past, she could make him fret about her safety.<p>

Faith jumped the ledge of a parking structure walkway, landing lightly into a back alley in the Lower East Side. This part of the city was an industrial jungle, on the opposite side of the river, housing most of the city's factories and plants, mixed in with a few warehouses. It had taken the rest of the morning to get there, at least a few hours' run, and by now, the sun was just starting to crawl towards the top of its arc.

"Alright, Merc, I'm at the drainage channel. Now what?"

"_Follow the canals to the Hampton Town District_." Merc relayed. "_Drake said he pinged Jacknife on the old Runner training grounds there. He saw him on some of the security feeds, but that was a while ago, and Jacknife's a little jittery. I'd move fast if I were you._"

The fence in front of her was tall and rimmed with razor wire, part of the security feature of the run down apartment complex on the edge of the canal. Undeterred, she scaled a drainage pipe up the side of it, then skirted along the edge of an AC with her hands, feet dangling below her.

From somewhere, she heard a snippet of a radio broadcast from an open window.

"_…investigating the death of mayoral candidate, Robert Pope, who was found shot dead in his office earlier. CPF has one suspect in custody, and are currently searching for another. Further details…_"

She grimaced as she inched along the AC hand by hand. Kate's setup was being poured down the public's throat. It made her want to scream in frustration.

On the other side of the unit, she had to pull off a quirky little jump, building her momentum by swinging her legs, but it was enough to grab a flagpole, then swing over the fence to the ground below. Ahead of her, one of the city's drainage canals stretched to her left and right. With this much concrete, rain water needed somewhere to go, and the channels filtered it to the sewer network.

Faith hopped down from the alley, starting a light jog towards the north. The sun on the bare open concrete made it feel hotter. There hadn't been any rain the past few days, so the canal was dry save for some runoff in the center.

"_Shit…got some chatter…_" Merc muttered in her ear. "_…dammit Faith, Blues are starting to converge on your location! Someone spotted you!_"

Even if he hadn't warned her, the sound of a helicopter rotor was sign enough. It slowly panned out from behind the skyline, making heading straight for her. It had to have been a ground unit that relayed her position. It hadn't zeroed in on her yet, which meant she still had a chance to disappear…

…except that there was no way out of the channel, at least not right away. There were access hatches every few hundred meters, but they were sealed shut. Faith cursed her luck, the only way out was up ahead, and the chopper would be right on top of her before then. It was stupid to have taken such an exposed route.

The sound of the rotors got louder and louder, and soon enough, she heard the voice over the bullhorn.

"_Stay where you are! You are in direct violation of city law!_"

She willed more speed into her legs. The channel was devoid of any major obstructions, and presented a wide open space for her to build up speed and keep it going. It also made her a wide open target. However, at regular intervals, there were large slough gates, metal grids designed to keep larger trash and objects from reaching the sewers. Some of them were open, allowing her to pass through with a slide or a hop, but others forced her to waste speed by mantling the small access ledge that ran along the channel.

The chopper settled into a low pave over the channel, no clustered buildings to hinder its flight path. She craned her neck back and got a good look at it; military design and jet black, CPF stenciled in white along the side. The side hatch was open, a gunner in the window with the mounted machine gun.

"_You have been warned!_"

Gunfire rang out, high caliber rounds peppering the concrete around her. Faith hopped one last gate, and then saw the open door ahead of her. Bullets ricocheted off the doorway as she sprinted through into the safe, concrete, and bulletproof service tunnel. The sound of the chopper faded quickly, but the sound of sirens began to rise.

"_Faith, keep moving,_" Merc warned. "_Wire's going nuts._"

She rounded a corner and stepped into a room, quickly scanning it for a way out. At first, all she saw was a metal shutter, undoubtedly locked, and her heart sank. Going back the way she came meant she would have to try and outrun the helicopter, and that wasn't going to happen in the drainage channel. The rest of the room was mostly empty save for some boxes and a rat that quickly scurried out of sight. But then she looked up and saw a ventilation grill, as well as some piping that ran past it.

The pipes were smooth, without any metal tape anchoring it to the wall, and it was a difficult climb. Fortunately, the grip on her Loggos proved to be sufficient, and the ceiling wasn't that high. The grate was flimsy, and she was able to shake it loose and wriggle into the vent. The shaft was a little more than a bend, and she was soon in another concrete service hallway.

The door at the end broke open with a kick. Before her stretched one of the city's storm drains, a huge round cistern that went as deep into the ground as one of the city's high-rises. Bordering it was a Callaghan Construction warehouse, a major city company, and the adjacent yard was filled with construction supplies and shipping containers.

Blue lights began to flash in time with the sirens on the sides of the buildings. Faith looked left and right, seeing only high razor wire fencing that led to the street, and a wall of freight containers that blocked her way. Behind her led back to the drainage channel, and ahead of her was a twenty story drop into a pit.

"Ah, Merc?" she panted. "Need a little guidance here…"

"_Shit, shit, shit…_" There was a pause, and the entire time felt like pins and needles. "_Storm drain! They've got you surrounded, lose 'em in there!_"

It wasn't the option she wanted to hear, but it was the only one she had. She took off towards the freight containers. A crane jutted out from them, holding a payload of I-beams. The payload hung near a smaller crane's lift that was anchored on the edge of the drain. The rim of the drain had no railing, and it was a sheer drop down before any kind of platform came into view. Runners were somewhat familiar with them; they made good training grounds.

She hopped to the I-beam payload from atop a container, then jumped to the lift and kicked the brake lever. It fell as if the floor had been pulled out from beneath her feet. Not the way she would have done it, but there wasn't time. The helicopter had already zeroed in on her again.

Faster and faster she fell, and she had the briefest moment to hope that the lift wouldn't either snap or send her straight to the bottom with a crash when it just stopped. The sudden halt made her legs buckle, and she slammed into the metal surface, nearly rolling off of it into the black pit that still spanned beneath her. When the daze faded, she realized it had taken her about halfway down, give or take. The chopper didn't give up so easily, however.

It _followed_ her.

The pilot brought the craft straight down, the blades blowing a torrent of wind downward as it sunk below the city's surface after her. The drain was wide enough, but there were just a few feet of clearance between the tail rotor and the cockpit on either side.

Faith was already in motion when it started to draw closer. She hopped off the lift, onto one of the small balconies that dotted the drain wall. There was just enough room to get enough speed and take a few steps along the curved wall, jumping to an outstretched light pole. From there, she swung to the next balcony slightly below her, then to the next, and then to the next, repeating the step-swing pattern.

By now, the chopper was almost level with her. The pilot pivoted, and she had a sudden mental image of him trying to carve her with the tail rotor. Instead, he brought the gunner around to line up another shot, but he only got a quick, loud burst off on the space she was at before she slipped out of his firing zone.

There was a clang of metal on stone, a horrible churning sound that was only made louder by the cylindrical pit. The pilot had gotten a little overeager, the tail rotor clipping the wall. Whether it caused some serious damage, or whether the pilot thought his luck had just been tried enough, the helicopter didn't dip any lower; it hovered for a second, then ascended and broke off, the rotors fading gradually.

Faith landed hard on the lowest access level, one that spanned the entire drain with a large metal overflow gate on one end, breathing hard. Her triceps where on fire from the repetitive swinging, the ungloved palm of her left hand sore and chaffed.

"_Don't think those Blues won't come down here._ Keep moving."

"Yeah," she replied between pants. "Just…just catching…my breath."

This day couldn't end fast enough.

The only way was forward, through the gate. This far down, everything was lit dimly, the angle of the sun above casting way too much shadow to be of any use. There was a panel near the gate though, and an emergency switch for it. She pressed it, and the thick door began to rise, dripping with old moisture and condensation, then stepped into the sewers proper.

"_Star-…lose you-…a sec…-ower…_"

"Merc?" She smashed her finger into her ear, a sense of panic starting to rise. The last thing she needed was to lose her Tracker, underground, where it was dark and she couldn't tell which way was which. "Merc, you're breaking up!"

It turned out to be a bad idea, as she was greeted with a very loud burst of static that almost made her tear her earpiece off.

"_Alright, signal's boosted. Pulling up the sewer plans now._"

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, then broke into a light jog. There was another gate just up ahead, but it too opened without a problem, granting her access to the main sewers.

Most people had the notion that sewers were a series of pipes, and while that was true, a city this size had several large reservoirs that spanned like caverns beneath it. Faith stepped into one that easily stretched the length of a football field, with a ceiling equal to that of which she just climbed down. Giant stone pillars ran at regular intervals down the length of it to support the ceiling.

All of this she took in gradually as her eyes adjusted. There was minimum lightning, barely enough to illuminate the maintenance walkways that spanned high on the ceiling and along some of the pillars. The walls were concrete grey, some sparse darker green highlighting choice areas and the metals. She hoped it was paint. It didn't exactly smell, but it was a sewer after all. Most of what passed had to be rainwater runoff, at least this close to the drain.

"_Got an exit for you,_" he said slowly. "_Should be on the other side. Looks pretty high up, though._"

She peered through the darkness. On the opposite wall, she could just make out what looked like a door set against a high ledge. At first, it looked like there was no way to reach it, but there were some cables that spanned across the gap between the support pillars. The Flow was hard to pick up, but she slowly pieced together a route along the scaffolding and balconies that wrapped around the pillars.

A low hanging ladder was her first step up, and then after that, she could easily get to another scaffold platform. Little by little, she worked her way up one level at a time, sometimes having to jump a gap that steadily increased as she got higher.

"_Shit, Faith, hold on, something on the wire…son of a…_" Merc sighed hard. "_They're already down there. They knew you were coming._"


	7. Jacknife Part 2

**Jacknife (Part 2)**

Before Faith had any time to reflect on what Merc had just said, let alone change her sprint or route, what sounded like a thunderclap rebounded off the high walls of the sewer. Part of the concrete pillar next to her head exploded into a hot mess of rock and dust, nearly blinding her.

Fortunately, she had just come out of a jump. Had the gunshot been any earlier, it would have tripped up her movement and probably would have sent her tumbling to the ground far below. As it was she stumbled behind the pillar and crouched low with her back to it, motionless. The shot had come from her left, further into the shadows. Whatever gun it had come from sounded big.

"Jesus, Merc!" she hissed when she realized she was still alive. "Thanks for the warning!"

"_Hey, I didn't hear anything on the chatter until now!_" Merc retorted defensively, but sounded relieved. "_You okay?_"

"Yeah," she whispered back. Even speaking softly seemed loud in the hollow expanse, especially in the wake of the blast. "Almost lost my head, but still in one piece."

"_Sounds like they sent down a sniper team then. Couple of guys, max, I'd say. Think you can get past 'em?_"

Faith glanced around the edge of the pillar, careful not to expose herself. The door at the end of the reservoir was about one floor above her. She'd need to get to the top of the support pillars, then double back to reach the cable that ran to it. There were small platforms that ringed the pillars that lead to it, but they were narrow, and there was no cover. She would be wide open.

"Probably not, at least not without being really lucky."

She couldn't wait them out, either. Sooner or later, the Blues topside would follow and cut off her escape completely.

"_They're going to be way left of your position,_" Merc said. "_There's a maintenance shaft there that eventually doubles back towards the surface. High ground, and they can see almost anywhere. Blues are going to be waiting there though, since it's the easiest way out…Actually, gimme a sec._" There was a short pause, then he chuckled. "_Yep, city's stupid enough to install cameras in a sewer and link it to their servers. I got eyes on two Blues, one with a pretty ugly rifle._"

Up ahead, the balcony twisted around the pillar. If it followed the same structure of the others, she could get up one floor and still have enough cover to get in their faces. Dangerous to go at them head on, but it beat waiting to get caught.

She bit her lower lip, then leaped into a sprint. She was out of cover for only a few seconds when another thunderous bang sounded, the shot going close enough for her to hear a zip before it struck the wall. Then she was around the next pillar. Sure enough, the next platform was just a little above her, so she kicked off the railing and mantled the edge of it, pulling herself up.

As she rounded the pillar she saw both of them, with indeed a very large rifle mounted on a biped on the railing, fitted with a bulky night vision scope. His spotter noticed her right away and yelled, but she had already moved in too close for the gun to be effective, then vaulted onto their balcony.

The gunman was slow, and she lowered her shoulder and knocked him to the ground. The spotter drew his sidearm, but she caught his wrist as he pointed the gun at her face, using some of his movement and her own speed to jerk him off his feet, flipping him onto his back. She crouched, then drove her fist into his nose before he could get up.

The sniper was back on his feet as the first cop slipped under, turning the heavy rifle towards her instead of going for his pistol. Faith skipped and kicked, kicking at the gun's frame and it went off askew into the darkness. The cop opted to then swing it like a cudgel at her head, but she ducked, leaned to the side and lifted her knee. Pain shot through her thigh as she gutted him, but he stumbled and sunk to his knees gasping for air, and she finished him off with a kick to the back of the skull.

"Ow," she winced, rubbing her thigh, then realized why it hurt.

Both of the 'cops' were wearing black armor, just like the men from the Financial District the day before. She knew she needed to keep moving, that Merc would probably yell at her any second when he saw her receiver not going anywhere, but she paused, nudging the unconscious body of the sniper over with her foot. No badge. Even the SWAT team from Pope's office all had tin on the front of their armor. In fact, the armor was almost featureless, save for a single stenciling of white letters on the right breast plate: PK.

"_Faith!_" came the warning yell.

"Yeah, I'm fine, remember, you can see me. Merc, it's those guys from before. Whoever they are, they're not Blues. No badges."

"_What? Blues gotta know them, they're mentioned in the chatter, and why else would they be in the sewers waiting for you? What the hell…Shit, Faith, speaking of chatter, Blues are starting to move into the sewers, and they're moving fast. Get going._"

Back the way she came, down below her, she could hear movement, and the rustle of things in the darkness. They were all too loud, and it had been almost silent save for the dripping water before the sniper tried to blow her head off. Her ears were still ringing from the gun at close range, but it was unmistakable; people were moving into the sewers after her.

The balcony was didn't offer a way up to the platforms along the support pillars, but one across the way did. Between the two of them, piping stuck out from the wall at regular intervals. Faith gauged the distance between them, then surrendered herself to the Flow and jumped to the first one.

It was thick and smooth under her hands, so smooth that she almost lost her grip and dropped who knows how many feet to the floor below. She shifted her grip to stabilize it, then swung her legs to build up a swing. Just before she hit the end of her swing, she let go, generating enough momentum to slip forward and grab the next pipe. It was slow movement, and it gave her arms and abs a hell of a workout, but she eventually reached the other balcony and jumped up to the first platform.

Residual moisture turned the concrete to a dull grey sheen. She tested her footing thoroughly before even thinking of running or jumping, but the rubber of her Loggos drew tight against it. Damp, but not wet, and certainly not slippery. The platform was only a few feet across, and rounded into an oval, which made each jump awkward, like any small slip would send her hurtling over the side. But it was long enough, and once she built up enough speed, she could keep it going, and the jumps were easy to make.

At the end of the row, she had to jump over to the next row of support pillars, and here she hesitated. It was further across than they were stacked, and she couldn't get that much speed to cross the gap. The cable that ran to the door was right ahead of her.

She steeled herself, took a deep breath, then pushed off the concrete, managing two steps before the drop overtook her. It wasn't nearly far enough to feel the Deadpoint; in fact, the speed in which she started to fall almost surprised her. She came up about a foot short from the edge, her midsection crashing into it with an oof from her lungs. Immediately, she slapped down on the cold concrete with both arms in attempt to stop the momentum of her swing legs from dragging her off.

A giddy sweat broke out across her forehead as she thrashed her legs and inched herself up, the sensation of nothing solid beneath her feet dizzying, and then she grabbed hold of the cable. It was thick and sturdy, so she didn't waste any time sliding down. There wasn't enough room to let go and bleed her speed off, so she had to let her legs take the shock of her speed against the wall.

As she inched along the last narrow ledge that ran to the door, she heard voices and the crackle of static. A parade of flashlights snaked along the ground far below, another six in total. It was too dark to make out if they were Blues or those other guys, but Faith didn't stick around to get a closer look. She opened the door and left them behind. Unless they had grapping hooks or jet packs, they couldn't follow her.

"So where am I now?" she asked as she quietly shut the door behind her. She had entered a small room, though she could already see her way out in the form of a ledge above her. It was a high ledge, but there was a handhold just below it. She could use that to make the last few feet of height.

"_Storm runoff channel,_" Merc replied. "_It connects to a few other drains, one of which is right on the edge of the Hampton Town District. If those Blues want to follow you, they'd have to double back through the surface._"

A little annoyed, she pressed her finger to her ear. "If it runs right to Hampton Town, why didn't you mention it sooner? I could have ducked through here instead of taking the drainage channel."

"_This is an old route. Drake mapped this thing God knows how long ago. I'm surprised I didn't have to blow the dust off when it came up on my screen._"

She made her way up to the ledge, then saw what Merc had meant by storm runoff. The ledge was more of a platform, which overlooked a slope running with a fine stream of water trickling down from the ceiling in a small waterfall. At the foot of the slope was another platform, and she could just make out another large overflow gate beyond that. Without hesitating, she hopped down the slope into an easy slide.

Water immediately soaked her cargo pants leg, thigh, and butt as she skid down, getting a brief shower from the trickling water overhead. It was cold, but refreshing after the chase and climbing in the reservoir. Her fall was controlled, and she hit the bottom grate at the end of the slope with a squeak of rubber on metal. The water continued down, falling through a slit in the great to an unknown blackness, likely further down into the sewer system. She hit the override switch for the overflow gate, and sighed a little in disappointment at what she saw.

It was pretty much an identical storm drain as the one she descended; a cavernous cylinder a few stories deep. The mouth was a bright circle of clear blue sky, with a few cranes visible at the top. Balconies littered the sides, and a pipe was draining water into the drain further below.

However, instead of going down, she had to climb up…and it wasn't going to be easy.

It took her the better part of half an hour. She was able to climb up part of the drain using some piping, traveling from balcony to balcony. There was a lift that could have taken her the rest of the way up, but it was locked, and she didn't have time to try and break into it, not with Blues possibly still following her. There was no telltale _thwock_ of helicopter rotors, and despite the time it took her too slowly climb out of the drain, and no Blues followed from the overflow gate below her. All the same, she wanted to get out of the sewers as fast as possible.

Eventually, she was able to trigger a winch that lifted a payload hanging down the drain, and she was able to ride that back up to the rim of it. She was in another Callaghan Construction yard, almost eerily similar to the one she was in only a little while ago, being surrounded by CPF and shot at by a helicopter.

"Where to next, Merc? I think the Blues gave up in the tunnels."

"_Alright, Hampton Town, lemme see…_" Merc thought for a moment while Faith enjoyed the light breeze. The air had been so unnaturally still and tomblike quiet in the sewers. The distant sounds of traffic and airliners overhead were a welcome buzz to her ears. "_Okay, perfect. The CC building you're next to? There should be an elevator that runs to the rooftops just outside the loading bay. Take it, and you're right on the edge of the old training grounds._"

The distant wail of a siren reminded her that she gave the Blues the slip, but CPF was still sniffing for her scent. She made her way around the rim of the drain, then climbed a parked loading truck to vault over the razor-wired security fence that guarded the only door she could see. Inside, more smooth halls of grey concrete, rimmed in blue. She heard movement and activity deeper inside; the sound of a buzzsaw, metal clanging on metal, and a motor running. As it was a construction building, she didn't expect to run into anyone in the maintenance hallway, as all the workers were probably laboring away in some warehouse, shipping building materials to parts of the city.

"_Look_," Merc sighed carefully, "_Jacknife will probably know something about Pope's murder._"

"Yeah," she said evenly, finding the elevator he described around a bend in the hall. She flicked her earpiece to open channel so she didn't have to keep pressing it.

"_So, don't let him push you around. I know you've got a bad history with him, but just remember who you're dealing with. He was one of the best Runners I ever saw, at least back in the day, but I have no idea who he's working for. Could be pretty shady_."

"I'll keep that in mind, Merc."

'Bad history' was the worst understatement of the year.

"_Just saying, watch your back. He's an asshole_."

Second worst understatement.

The elevator took her too the roof, which then led her to the edge of the Hampton Town District. Despite the fact that it was an older district, there were still plenty of signs of construction; just because it was old didn't mean it didn't, couldn't keep shifting, changing, and evolve like a living being.

The Flow was easy to pick up once she stepped onto the rooftop, with plenty of optional ways to take the same route. That was why they used it as training ground. She kept her eyes peeled for Jacknife, ready to resent the moment she saw him.

The sun was creeping higher, but the angle surprised her, making her squint. So much that she almost didn't see him walk right into her field of view around a corner.

Jacknife blinked, equally surprised, then grinned widely when he recognized her. He was cleaner cut than she last saw him, black hair slicked back with a smear of gel. He used to wear it longer, about shoulder length. He wore black track pants and a matching leather jacket with a rank of digital blue lines on one arm that matched the undershirt beneath it. For a second, she barely even recognized him.

"Hello Faithy!" he said brightly, causing her stomach to roll. Her expression matched her feeling.

"Listen, Jack," she said dryly. "Don't think I'm trying to flatter you. I need—"

—he suddenly broke into a sprint, making for a high-tension cable on the corner of the roof. Faith swore and chased after him. Why he turned and ran, she didn't know, but the why was probably why she followed. If he had something to run about, he had something to hide.

He took the cable first, using the sleeve of his jacket as padding with Faith hot on his heels. It was a short ride, and as soon as he touched the next roof, he was moving, ducking under a pipe without even breaking speed. By the time she followed suit, he had already doubled the gap and jumped to the next roof.

There was a fence ahead, but he quickly mantled it. Faith took it just as easily, scaling the short wall after him, then jumped an AC unit to the next roof. Under another pipe, over a short ledge, the chase continued.

She caught up when he scaled a roof access shed. Instead of following, she jumped and ran along the wall that ran next to it, keeping her speed all the while getting on top the shed. He noticed the move, a smug look on his face, then jumped to a balcony across the way, Faith only feet behind him.

The pair of them darted over a few ventilation ducts, over a low wall, then to another rooftop and over a fence. Jacknife was stronger, faster, and more experienced, but out of practice. Faith could keep up with him, she was confident in that. It was the little things that he did that interrupted the flow which allowed her to gain on him inch by inch. He burned speed and momentum, and wasted energy when he should be conserving it.

He took another high tension wire to another roof, then gained some speed and ran along the orange face of an apartment complex to clear a high fence. He pulled off a tricky little jump off a vent that she matched exactly, then sprinted down the roof along the edge around a bend. The building continued up, forming a small alley between its wall and the fencing that surrounded the section of roof they were on. She heard a bang as she followed, then saw him slip through an open door, latch broken away.

The door led to a hall, grey and blue concrete stretching down before turning around a corner. Jacknife's jacket was just visible as it disappeared around it, and her hopes soared. She cornered the bastard, and now it was time to—

—when she turned the corner, he was looking at her grinning from inside an elevator. She leaped for him, but the doors had already shut on him giving her a mocking wave.

"Dammit!" she swore, socking the metal door in frustration without thinking of the pain that immediately blossomed up her arm.

Knuckles throbbing, she almost gave up right there, but whatever luck she had been drawing on since that morning continued: there was another elevator that was waiting for her, which she quickly got into and hit the button for the roof. Jacknife was used to being a Runner, so he would think like a Runner: get up high and get to the roofs.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to hit the open doors running. A scrolling screen inside the elevator reminded her to invest her savings and future with Bank Credit National, but she ignored it. It sounded like Merc was saying something in her ear, but she was too distracted to pay attention.

The doors opened with a ding, just in time to see a streak of black dart across the open roof. She bolted after him before the doors stopped sliding open.

The jump ahead was crazy, but Jacknife took it anyway. Her little burst of speed out of the elevator was almost enough to close the distance between them, so close that she was only feet from reaching out and grabbing the flap of his jacket when he leaped. As soon as she saw the gap, Faith ground to halt, nearly faceplanting on the concrete as her treads stopped her.

It was an impressive jump, she would give him that. Jacknife sailed through the air, clearing a full two lanes below him, then reached out to grab some piping jutting out from a scaffold on the adjacent roof. However, it wasn't anchored, and it came loose as his weight hit it and swung forward. He lost his grip and landed with a distant thwack on the rooftop as the building material clanged off the roof before slipping over the edge and crashing to the street below. His body lay motionless on the hot concrete.

"Ooohhhh shit," she swore, genuinely worried. Not for Jacknife, he could go burn in a fire. If he ate it, her only lead was gone. "Merc, Jacknife's down, hard! Across the street."

"_Damn, hell of a jump_," he muttered. "_Well, better hope he's not dead if you want to hear what he has to say about Pope. You guys ran off the training ground, so I don't have a route over to him. See anything?_"

Faith breathed hard, taking a minute to scan her surroundings. It wasn't much. The Flow that Jack had followed seemed to have led to a dead end, but then she spied a barely noticeable route to her left that looped around from the building next door. From there, she could reach the scaffolding that rimmed the building Jacknife was on.

It took her only a few minutes, and all the while, she kept glancing at Jacknife, but he still wasn't moving. Time after time, she told herself that she wasn't worried about him, but what he knew. It was funny how two things could overlap like that and just piss her off even more.

As she passed through the construction security fencing, however, her concerns vanished. Jacknife was just rolling over, rubbing the side of his head and groaning. She had him trapped between the edge of the roof and a high wall. The only way he was going to get past was through her. She drew up a strong stance, pumped and ready for him to make a move.

He got up slowly, dusting off his jacket, then twisted his neck in his hands, cracking it. His digital tat ran up the side of his neck, up past his left cheek, the circuitry weave ending in a point at the corner of his left eye. The low cut neon blue shirt he wore beneath the jacket hinted at more of it running down his chest and shoulder. Faith knew just how far down it ran, and hated herself for knowing.

"Should I guess what you're here for, Faithy, or did you just miss me?" he asked with a wide, sneering smile after a look that bordered between annoyance and cockiness with a grimace of pain.

"Spare me the bullshit," she snapped. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure of humoring his tricks. "Just tell me what you know about Pope's murder, Jack."

"I heard a cop did it," he said, sounding uninterested, but there was no mistaking that crafty look in his eye as he continued to dust himself off. "It's all over the news. What's it to you?"

What was it about him that just pissed her off? Every look he gave her, the sound of his voice, and every way he moved his body in a arrogant swagger made her grind her teeth. It was like being talked down to, like she was trash, that he knew everything better than she ever could.

"You heard wrong then," she growled threateningly, balling her hands into fists and stepping forward. That was his warning; if he continued to jerk her around, she would beat it out of him. Gladly. Hell, she would throw him off the damn roof. "Now tell me what you know."

Jacknife raised his hands in mock defeat, stepping back, but didn't look anywhere near intimidated. "Easy, Faithy. Don't get ahead of yourself. You're used to running before you look, and that's a good way to get yourself killed. What makes you think I know anything about some murder?"

"Because you're a sniveling, backstabbing little bastard who sticks his hands in places they shouldn't be," she countered, stepping further after him. He was running out of roof, but she knew that wouldn't scare him. "And you already seem pretty familiar with it…at least familiar enough to try and jerk me around."

"You a fan of wrestling, Faith?" he asked suddenly.

"What?"

"You asked what I know about the murder, and you're right: I know a little about everything. Pope was a wrestling fan," he continued, turning his back on her and hopping up onto the edge of the roof. A desire to drive her foot into his back suddenly washed over her. "He even hired an ex-wrestler to be in charge of his security."

He waved his arm across the street, towards a large advertisement hanging from the next building. It was a gaudy orange and white, and since she had learned to tune out pretty much anything on the city's billboards, she hadn't even noticed it, despite it being in her field of vision for the past few minutes. It was a Z silhouetted against white, with the name Burfield stenciled beneath it. Beside it, Vegade: Your 5-a-day in a can! (Brought to you by Raposa).

"Does the name Travis Burfield ring a bell?" he asked. "Used to go by the name Ropeburn when he was in the ring."

"Is this going somewhere?" Faith snapped impatiently.

"Ropeburn?" Jacknife shrugged indifferently. "He's just a thug who got lucky. A 'professional' wrestler who gets out of the business and starts up his own? Tough to do in this city, and then he gets hired as security for a mayoral candidate. Even broken clocks aren't lucky twice." He hopped off the ledge, rolling his shoulder from the fall as he paced casually past her. "Sometimes people are too ignorant to see their place, Faith; always want to swim in the big pond, and they never see the bigger fish…."

Faith glared at him, carefully maintaining her distance. Poetic, but it sounded like bullshit, like he would try to feed to her before he threw a sucker punch. Still, there was something hidden behind the words, something that sounded like a threat. What did it have to do with Travis Burfield, or Pope, or Kate for that matter?

"If I were you, I would start with that glorified slab of meat," he continued, then grinned brightly and waved. "Happy hunting, Faithy!"

With that, he turned and set off at a light jog. Faith let him go, trying to relax the grinding in her jaw. So much for getting her chance to throw him off the roof. If she ran now, she might still get the chance to beat the living crap out of him, but ultimately, she let him go. Her muscles were sore all over, and she was wiped. Plus, there were less revolting things she could do to let off steam that didn't involve touching him.

"_Ah, Faith…_" Merc began in her ear. She forgot that she left the open channel on. "_I don't think going after Ropeburn is a good idea. I've heard of the guy, and—_"

"I'm not," she interrupted. "I'm going to go see Miller. We need to find out what the Blues are doing about this."

"_Uuuggh…_" Merc let out a frustrated groan. "_Faith, what are you trying to do? Cops are trying to kill you all over the city, and now you want to talk to one? Are you mental?_"

"He might know something about Ropeburn and whether or not he's connected to this. If he was head of Pope's security, it's as good a place as any to start."

"_He's gonna want to know your source. You gonna tell him about Jacknife?_"

"Not yet. He's still a cop." She paused. "No matter what Kate says. For all we know, he's the one who set her up."


	8. CPF Part 2

**CPF (Part 2)**

"This is unbelievable," Bradley said, shaking his head in amazement.

Miller, along with Moreno and her partner, Chris Bradley, sat in his office later that day going through a box of files that the secretary had dropped off. It contained pretty much everything they wanted to know about Pirandello/Kruger and then some, rush-delivered straight from their HQ downtown. Public information brochures, financial reports, even an informational video – which sat untouched at the bottom – gave them a complete guided tour of the company. If there was one thing Miller could say, they were thorough.

"Austrian-made submachine guns and Belgium-made assault rifles," he continued, tossing a few pictures and inventory logs from the file onto Miller's desk. "Why the hell does a private security company need that much firepower? Look at this:" He held up a photo of a particularly nasty-looking weapon, a bullpup shotgun with two barrels. "A NeoStead, manufactured in South Africa with limited distribution rights to national militaries. Are we bolstering city security, or going to war?"

"You sure know a lot about guns, Bradley," Moreno said, looking amused. She placed the file in her hands in her lap. More were scattered on the floor around her. "Have a hidden life you want to tell us about?"

He faltered, looking sheepish. "I…played a lot of video games as a kid, alright?"

Moreno chuckled, then leaned forward to pinch his cheek. "Aw, sweetie, you can be so _cute_ sometimes."

Bradley, unlike Moreno, was fairly new to the CPF, a fresh rookie before he became her partner a little over a year ago. They made an unlikely pair: a short and stocky Hispanic woman from the inner city and a tall and lanky Caucasian kid from the outer suburbs. One grew up tough, the other sheltered, and it wasn't hard to see which.

He batted her hand away and shot her a sour look, but she only smirked back. Miller was too absorbed in the current document he was reading to tell them to knock it off. From what he was seeing, PK offered far more than just simple private security. In addition to simple alarms and fencing, they also supplied bodyguard duty, event staffing, and even private investigating. But for once, he agreed with Bradley right off the bat: they were too well armed to be up to anything good. However, nothing he pulled from the city's servers flagged the company as malicious; they were just one of the top private security competitors.

Despite Kruger's earlier assurance that looking over some of the finer details of his company didn't do anything to soothe his nerves. In fact, they only made them worse.

"You worry about the guns, I'm worried about the guys," Moreno said, pointing to a pamphlet she had in her hands. It was a little blurb on some of PK's guard duty services, but she was pointing to some of the figures highlighted. "They're either built like tanks, or have had some kind of military or special forces training." She scanned the picture further, then whistled appreciatively. "…still, wouldn't mind meeting this one in a club. _Papacito__ rico__…_"

"He could do better," Bradley muttered.

Moreno replied silently with a punch to his shoulder that made him hiss and wince, but this time it was his turn to smirk. The back and forth between them might have seemed petty, but Miller knew that they were close as partners. People sometimes showed trust and affection in odd ways, the two of them being a prime example. When neither of them responded to the other's banter, _then_ something was wrong.

He closed the file he was reading and tossed it on his desk, satisfied that he knew everything he cared to ever know. The company's watermarked emblem glared at him from the cover; the face of a bulldog, digitalized, with the logo _Securing__ Your__ World_ beneath it. What he saw didn't make him feel secured. If anything it made him feel threatened.

The file landed on top of another, partially obscuring the fragmented reports about vagrants tagging rooftops, the so-called 'Runners' that Kruger mentioned. He dismissed it as a dead end. It was nothing but incomplete vandalism reports and trespassing. If Kruger thought they were a threat to the city, then he was giving the man too much credit.

"I don't see what all of this has to do with Kate, and Pope's murder," he said, distractedly, speaking more to himself than his two subordinates. "Of all the high profile homicides we've had over the year, why is Callaghan bringing in private security?"

"Maybe he's trying to look good for the election," Moreno suggested. "You know, making it look like he actually cares. Or maybe he's just nervous that someone's going to go after him next? Maybe it's a new serial killer targeting city fat-cats. Figures more security on the street will make him safer before the Mayoral Masochist strikes again, so he cuts all of our paychecks and hires a private security force."

He shook his head, though with a slightly amused grin. She was a good cop, and with Bradley, one of his better subordinates. Even though she was heavy handed, she could still string together a reasonable thesis. When she was being serious.

"What are you thinking, boss?" Bradley asked suddenly. "Kate didn't murder Pope, right? There's not a jury in the world that would convict her if this goes to trial. She was set up."

Miller smirked further at the sound of the hopefulness in his voice. What Moreno had too much, he didn't have enough. Moreno tended just to speak her mind, regardless of how foul, Spanish, or cynical it was. Bradley, still a little fresh and sheltered, was much more reserved. He also didn't know Kate as well as Moreno.

"You want to tell him, chief?" Moreno asked.

Bradley looked at her, confused. "Tell me what?"

"What do you know about Kate before she was a cop?" Miller asked mildly, turning in his chair to face him directly and rubbing his eyes. His eyesight was starting to go, and while it hadn't gone as far as glasses yet, he was definitely on the right road. Extended reading wasn't helping. "How she was raised, brought up, etc?"

"Um, well…" Bradley trailed off, thinking for a moment and looking caught off guard. "Not much, I guess. I know she's a local girl."

"It's something that she doesn't generally talk about, and I would prefer that you do the same," Miller began. "Getting Kate in the CPF wasn't an easy task because of her background. She was involved with _Libertas,_ and participated in the November Riots."

Bradley's eyes went wide in amazement. "Seriously? Kate Connors in the November Riots?"

"She was one of the many peaceful protestors, and back then, she was just a girl that probably got scooped up in the action by her parents. At that age, the District Reform Bill wouldn't even had made sense to her."

"So what happened when it all went to hell?" Bradley asked, again, his reservation coming through. It sounded like he didn't want to hear it, but the cat was out of the bag.

"Her mother was killed, trampled by the crowd," Miller said. The thoughts and memories of that day still sent a chill down his spine, and any cop would probably agree. If it was any consolation, cops back then weren't what they were today. "Kate was left to pick up the pieces of her life with her father, and things didn't go so well from there. After that, she joined the CPF Academy. She never spoke much about him."

"Wow." Bradley slumped in his chair. "Never would have guessed it. Not Kate."

"Most wouldn't," he agreed, drawing his mouth in a grim line, "But that's not the point. The point is that Pope was also involved. He was one of the leaders of _Libertas_. That's the only connection a jury will see with the lack of evidence elsewhere."

"The captain was finally willing to share some of the initial reports from the murder this morning," Moreno told Bradley. "Building security was going through a reboot, so the camera's didn't catch anything. There were no other prints, Kate's gun a single bullet light, and a spent casing in the office. No one but her and a dead body."

_And__ the __person__ running __from__ the __scene_, Miller reminded himself. The building's security didn't get much of anything other than a few glimpses before the chase spilled out into the city. You'd think a multibillion dollar network wouldn't be prone to such errors. Could that have been the person that framed her? He also noted that Moreno didn't mention it. Was this another attempt by Kruger to throw him in the wrong direction…or did he say something Captain Briggs didn't intend him to?

Bradley gave her a doubtful look. "So you're saying that makes Kate guilty?"

"No, but it makes her guilty in a jury's eyes," Miller said heavily, "and it gives the prosecution more than enough to make a point to a judge."

"Think about it," Moreno told him. "A lawyer's got enough to make it sound like Kate killed Pope out of revenge for the death of her mother. There's no evidence to support it, but not enough to deny it either. Her past _will_ get dredged up in court, and people are going to ask questions."

"And if she's been set up, it wouldn't take much to tip the scales against her," Miller finished. "Pope was popular, but he was a radical. The Riots didn't make him look good, and some people would rather his legacy stay buried, intentional or not."

He glanced past Bradley's shoulder, through the crack of the ajar office door. Out on the main floor, the daily activity continued as if nothing was wrong. Then he saw Captain Briggs and Kruger round the corner. They were too far away for him to hear what they were saying, but Briggs seemed to be giving a tour of the precinct. Kruger was nodding thoughtfully at whatever he was being told, but at the same time he was looking anxiously around, almost like he was appraising the building like a new homeowner.

What if this was just the start? How long until 'bolstering' became replacing, until _The__ People__ We__ Protect_ became _Securing__ Your__ World_?

"What do we do, chief?" Moreno asked. Miller realized that both her and Bradley were looking at him. His subordinates wanted guidance, some reassurance, and he was staring past them.

"We just can't leave Kate in lock up and wait for a trial," Bradley said. "Not with these sharks circling."

He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head and thinking hard. Briggs said not to get involved, to leave it up to homicide to sort out. The captain wasn't someone to cross, not in his own precinct. At the very best, going behind his back would result in a suspension, possibly a harsher punishment for Bradley and Moreno…As for the worst…

"There's not much we _can_ do," he sighed. "Not with Kruger and PK breathing down our necks. Something is _wrong_ with this case, and I have a feeling it's related to our new 'friends' from the private security division."

Moreno and Bradley shared an uneasy glance, but it was Moreno to first voice her worries like usual.

"Chief…you think the CPF had something to do with this?"

He sighed hard again, then drummed his fingers on his desk, trying to carefully piece together what he knew. Out on the floor, Kruger and Briggs moved out of sight. If someone in the City Protection Force did set Kate up, what did they have to gain? They'd smear the force's reputation, land Kate in jail, and end up with a heavier police presence due to PK's involvement. Kate didn't have any enemies that he knew of, so it didn't seem personal. It was a cliché, but most of the precinct loved her and treated her like family, especially Bradley and Moreno. No, the problem didn't lie with Kate…that left Pope, who _did_ have plenty of enemies, but no ties to the CPF, and what criminal wanted more security on streets? The motivation just didn't make sense.

"I don't know," he said finally. "But both of you know people inside homicide. Keep your ears open. Do some digging. _Carefully_. Don't make it look like you're investigating this too far past curiosity, and don't draw attention to yourselves. Briggs told us not to go further, and if this _is_ something internal…we don't know how far it goes or who's involved."

Both of them slumped in disappointment, but nodded in assent. Like them, he hated to sit around while one of his own cooked in a holding cell downtown, but his hands were tied.

Moreno and Bradley returned to their desks, leaving Miller to fill the box with the rest of the files on PK. He glanced through some as he put them away, an uneasy feeling washing over him once again. _Securing__ Your__ World__…_

…only whose world was PK securing?

* * *

><p>Miller checked his desk clock a few hours later. It was a little past five. Time to punch out.<p>

He ran his hands over his face, sighing to himself and rubbing at the corners of his eyes. The edges of the lights were starting to form halos. Outside his office door, the operations floor buzzed just as it had when he stepped in that morning. It would be like that in the middle of the night, too, and the same when he stepped back in the next morning.

Moreno and Bradley had already punched out and left, despite their reluctance to leave. It was just like he had said: there wasn't much they could do about Kate except sit on their hands. Their real jobs took priority, and the city wasn't going to sit by quietly. There were even reports of shots fired in the Lower East Side, though it was in another precincts jurisdiction.

He debated staying late, maybe to look over the reports one more time. Maybe Briggs was still around, and now that some time had passed, he'd be more willing to share some of the details about the murder. But debate about staying or leaving as he might, ultimately, it circled back to what he told his subordinates. Obsessing over it would draw attention, and that might make things even worse for Kate, so he packed his things and headed to the elevator, punching the button for the parking level.

When the doors opened, the lot was empty, save for his car a few rows down. The fourteenth's parking garage had a quirky tendency to fill up in alternating floors due to the overlap of each shift. First shift filled up one level, second shift filled up the one above. First shift left, and third shift filled it in after they were gone. He was late in leaving, so he already missed the anxious jam to get back into the traffic-filled streets.

His footfalls echoed back to him as he wearily dug into his slacks for his keys, then disengaged both the alarm and the door locks from the transmitter on the key ring. Maybe all he needed was a good night's rest. He felt exhausted, despite he hadn't done much but sit and review case files all day. The captain might be in a better mood tomorrow, and besides, they couldn't simply keep him out of lock up for very long. He could try and see Kate tomorrow and—

"_Lieutenant__ Miller_?"

He spun, and without thinking drew one of his sidearms, suddenly wired and alert. The woman's voice that spoke his name was close, almost too close, and he had been sure he was alone. He found himself staring at one of the basement's support columns, a cylinder of concrete a few feet thick. _One __that __he __had __passed __and __seen __every __side __of __on __the __way __to __his __car._

"Easy, I'm coming out."

At first, the voice's echo faded to silence, but then, movement. A hand slowly appeared, followed by an arm and the rest of the body until a young woman stepped out into the open, under the slight shadow of the column cast by the fluorescent lighting. Immediately, he trained his weapon on her chest and held his ground. It was a rude greeting, but the station was private city property, she was trespassing, and he didn't know her intentions. He felt justified.

He blinked in surprise, however, as she took a slow, cautious step further into the light, empty hands raised unthreateningly. She was of Asian descent, standing a little more than a head shorter than him, her hair cut in a short but shaggy bob. She wore a track tank-top and grey cargo pants tied off at the ankles, as well as a solitary glove and elbow pad on her right arm, which partially obscured the complex digital tattoo that snaked from her forearm to her shoulder.

Most notable, other than the tattoo on her arm, was the one around her right eye. He mistook it for eyeliner at first until he realized that it was only around one of her eyes. It looked like a modern take on an Egyptian hieroglyph, wavy on the tips that hung beneath her eye, sleek and aerodynamic. Everything else about her was unkempt, shaggy, rough, or uneven. Except for that tattoo.

He'd seen worse appearances, but what he couldn't shake was that she was somehow _familiar_. There was no way they could have met…unless she was a criminal he crossed paths with, which in that case the position of his gun _was_ justified.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Faith Connors." She paused. "Kate's sister."

His brow narrowed briefly in confusion, but he held himself otherwise neutral. _Sister?_

"She never mentioned a sister…" he said carefully. "It was my knowledge that she was an only child."

Faith snorted. "Yeah, well, we're not the 'mentioning type'." A brief expression of sadness crossed her face, but faded as fast as it had shown itself. "And I can't blame her for it, either."

That would explain the feeling. And the more he looked at her, the more he believed her. If it wasn't for her appearance, they could be twins. Kate's clever brown eyes stared through her mismatched gaze, and she had the same wiry-strong build. He mentally pulled back those shaggy bangs into the bun Kate usually wore and…_yes._ It was Kate, through and through. She had a twin sister?

She dropped her hands to her side, and Miller tensed minutely at the motion. She didn't appear armed, but he couldn't see the back of her waistband.

"She told me to find you if things got bad," she continued. "And they have."

He pursed his lips together. "She's been arrested…" A thought suddenly occurred to him, what Kruger said earlier. _Tattoo__ on __the __right__ arm __and __around __the __eye,__ Asian __descent._"…and if she told you that, then you would be the suspect seen fleeing from the crime scene."

Faith put on a thoughtful face. "Well now, it's difficult to recall _with __a __gun __in __my __face._"

The look turned to an impatient glare, and slowly, he lowered his weapon, almost forgetting that the muzzle had been trained on her the entire time. She seemed to relax a little bit, but not much. Her body seemed tense, like it was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

His gaze was drawn back to that tattoo around her eye. It also looked familiar. Then, it hit him. He'd seen it early that day. _It__'__s __the __same __as __the __graffiti. __The __vagrants __from__ the __rooftops __being __reported __every __so __often._

"You're a Runner."

"That's right," she said with an approving tone. "And you also know that Kate was set up, too, right?"

"What I _know_ is that Kate wouldn't be capable of something like murder," he said, annoyed at her tone. It sounded almost condescending. "I want nothing more than to hear her side of the story and find out what really happened in Pope's office."

"I was there. You can ask her yourself. She was scared, holding a gun she didn't shoot, but she was willing to take the fall and hope the net would catch her." Her look turned accusatory, and her face tipped up slightly. "Except she knew there was a hole in it; she just didn't want to admit it."

"I can't even get in to see her, and my captain is asking some _very_ difficult questions." Miller continued, ignoring the look she was giving him, or more accurately, the look she was giving the badge pinned to his breast pocket. "Someone with her background wasn't easily integrated into the police force, and earning their trust was even more difficult. If this was a setup, they wouldn't need much."

"What do you know about something called Icarus?" she asked suddenly. Her tone was neutral, almost uninterested. Too uninterested to be otherwise.

Miller held her gaze, though he didn't know what she was talking about. "Why?"

Her hand and eyes dropped to her pocket, and in a flash, he brought the muzzle of his gun back up. Slowly, she withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, glaring at him in mismatched irritation. He had to force himself to drop the pistol to his side again; there was something about the way she moved that made him nervous.

"It's mentioned on this." She held the paper for him to see. What could have been the word 'Icarus' was scrawled on it. "It's from Pope's diary. It was in his hands."

"You took evidence?" he asked in disbelief, the last of the trust he formed for her vanishing. That could have hindered the investigation. Who knows, maybe it contributed to why Kate had been arrested! "Why?"

"Lieutenant, my sister is the only family I have left," she said, putting the piece of paper back into her pocket. "I'd take, and give, a lot more if I could. You know what happens to Blues that go to jail. It might not happen right away, but it will eventually…If she goes down for this, it's a death sentence, and whoever set her up knows that."

Miller knew she was telling the truth. Former cops who ended up in jail didn't have an easy time, not with who they put in there from the streets. At the very best, Kate's life would be a living hell. The more likely situation was that she would get stabbed weeks after incarceration. He saw the incident reports. They were too numerous to be ignored.

At that moment, he considered bringing her in. Faith was a witness, and she could have valuable information to the case, maybe even enough to clear Kate's name. But she was also suspect, and if he brought her in now, it would paint him in suspicion too…she had appeared out of nowhere, after all, and to his knowledge, no one knew that Kate had a sister either. She wouldn't be credible as a witness, especially after fleeing from the scene. And what was Icarus, and what did it have to do with Pope, or Kate, for that matter?

In the end, there was only one thing he really could do.

"I won't stop you," he said finally, holstering his gun. "I owe that much to Kate. But there are plenty of people who will try. If this is a setup, then it goes past my captain, maybe even higher…There could be powerful people involved, and I can't stop _them_, either. If you're caught, they won't treat you any better than they are her."

She gave him a lopsided smirk. "Don't worry, they won't catch me. Running is what I do."

"Fair enough," he agreed.

Something clanged in the parking structure. It sounded like a door banging. Miller's head snapped in the direction of the stairwell door next to the elevator, but it was shut. It could have been one of the cleaning staff on the lower levels, going to empty a dumpster. If someone saw Faith with him…

"You'd better-" he began, turning towards her, but he stopped abruptly.

Despite the fact that his head had been turned for a total of a few seconds, Faith had vanished silently. He looked around himself quickly, but there was no trace of her. There were only the shadows of the lot and his parked car.

He wondered if it had been a good idea to trust her.


	9. Heat Part 1

**Heat (Part 1)**

"Well, what do you think?" Merc asked Faith as she dropped in through the hole in the ceiling. "Can we trust Miller?"

She breathed hard, cooling down after the run back from the CPF's fourteenth. The Blues were still on high alert all over the city, but she made it back without being spotted, and the run had been easy, if not tense. "So far…yeah."

It wasn't a confident answer, but she didn't have that kind of confidence to give to Merc. At the very best, Miller hadn't shot her outright, or tried to bring her in, so that at least was a start. Kate said he was a good cop, and maybe she was right…then again, maybe that meant he was slightly-less crooked than the guy next to him, and it was all relative. Who knew? She only just met the guy, and the first thing he did was point a gun at her.

She turned to Merc after running her arm across her brow to wipe the sweat. It had gotten hotter out now that the afternoon had just finished and evening was just beginning to settle in. "So where do we stand? You or Drake find anything new out?"

Merc shrugged, but glanced to his computer. "Word's finally out that Pope is dead. CEC was broadcasting it from the start, but now some of the smaller fish are starting to bite. Social networking's all lit up, political activist forums, you name it." He glanced at her warily. "Plenty of posts saying that a cop did it."

Faith's lip curled back. People would believe anything the city told them.

"Yeah, well screw 'em," she spat. "Next they'll have them believe that drinking Vegade will give you wings."

Part of her was still angry and frustrated at the lack of evidence she had to prove Kate's innocence, but she was vaguely wondering if evidence was even going to matter in this. If people could be bought, that meant a jury could be bought, and Kate would be as good as charged guilty. Miller didn't give her anything new either, so they were back to square one: Kate was in custody, and there was no way to get her out. She almost missed what Merc was saying next.

"What I don't get is who benefits from this?" He clacked a few keys, shutting a few web browser windows, then rubbed his face. "The CPF is going to take one hell of a hit."

"Merc," Faith replied irritably, "What makes you think they're going to even investigate this? For all we know, they'll just sweep it under the rug like nothing happened."

"You don't whack a mayoral candidate and don't not expect to get heat from it," he countered. Shakespeare, he was not. "It was a setup, yeah, I hear you and agree, but people are going to know if it gets pushed aside, and they'll start to think that, too. The news is going to know, the people are going to know, unless they do something to make this look genuine."

She crossed her arms silently, already knowing what he was implying. Kate was the lamb they were sacrificing, she was the person the city was going to hate for this. "They've already got Kate," she said, a faint choke in her throat. "You don't think that'll be enough?"

Merc drew his lips together, looking like he realized the nerve he pinched. "Yeah, I know, but no, it won't be. People are going to suspect something else if Kate takes the fall and there's no backlash. She's a cop, which means the CPF is going to have to launch an internal investigation; city officials are going to demand it. Trust me on this."

He was right. Kate's setup painted the whole force in a negative light. There would_ have_ to be internal investigations, interviews, and a whole lot of city funds invested into it. Unless every city official above the CPF was in on this, someone was going to raise an eyebrow. Merc's line of thinking was starting to make sense. Just who was benefiting from this kind of publicity?

"So CPF gets a load of crap thrown on top of them," she reasoned, pacing to the couch to sit. "Unless there's some long-term benefit we don't know about a Blue doesn't gain anything from this. They're just part of the means. Like Kate."

Merc nodded, biting a worn thumbnail in thought. "What about some thug or crime boss with a chip on his shoulder…'cept that this would mean more Blue traffic…permanently, probably, so I can't see that happening."

That was also true. Then there were those soldiers she kept bumping into, the ones with _PK_ etched on their armor. They were working with the Blues, but seemed one step ahead of them, like they were better organized, or at least better informed, and kept showing up every time she got involved with the situation. At either rate, it meant more enforcement on the streets, which is something any criminal, or even a Runner, would suffer from.

"What about higher up?" Faith asked suddenly. "One of the city officials. What about Callaghan? He loses a potential opponent, takes office in a landslide."

This time, Merc grimaced, as if she were suggesting they go after him. "Callaghan isn't someone I'd want to poke with a stick, especially right now. He's the reason why the city's the way it is now. Sure, he's coming out with one less opponent, but he's going to be dealing with the fallout, and he was way ahead in the election anyway. A lot of money invested in CPF's investigation, all the negative press, not to mention he's going to take some heat for coming out on top again. It's not something he'd want to dump on his political career, especially when it's his Blues taking the fall."

So square one it was. Faith dumped her chin in her palm, sighing hard and feeling more frustrated then ever. They needed another lead, a new direction to work in. Fortunately, she had one.

"I'm going to check out Ropeburn and his business," she decided, standing up. "He was in charge of the building's security when Pope was shot. Can you get me an address?"

To her surprise, Merc didn't move in his chair, but he did cross his arms and sigh. "Faith, you need to slow down. Ropeburn's a thug, and he's not someone we want to be messing with, either."

"A 'pro' wrestler?" she asked, dubious. "You're kidding right?"

"I saw him break some guy's arm, then headbutt the ref. Pro wrestling might be fake, but most of the action isn't. You're not going to be able to catch him off guard for a chat like Miller. He's an unknown, but he's going to be a fighter. That guy whose arm he broke career ended, and that ref died six years later from a brain aneurysm."

She rolled her eyes. "Merc, stop being difficult, just—"

"No, _you_ stop being difficult," he suddenly snapped, making her jump. "Faith, you are running yourself into the ground here. You've been up for over thirty-six hours, and most of that time has been spent running, jumping, fighting, and getting shot at." He stood up suddenly from his chair. She took a step back, bumping into the couch. Merc was big, and the way he was moving…it was intimidating, enough to make her second-guess herself on glance. But at the same time, she scowled at him. Kate's future was at stake; who was he to tell her to _slow down_?

"I can see it in your eyes," he continued. "You're exhausted, and the only thing that's keeping you up is adrenaline. You're going to start making mistakes. If you don't get shot, you'll misjudge a jump, miss a grab, and end up broken in half in the middle of the street. Last time, it was just your leg."

"I'm fine," she retorted, stepping up to him to show she wasn't going to let him intimidate her. "Once I get my blood moving, I'll be fine."

However, now that he said it, he was right. Even just sitting on the couch sent a wave of fatigue over her, and she had to fight the urge to yawn. Her limbs still felt loose and stretched, but somehow distant and logy, like she was wearing weights around her ankles and wrists. Even her tank top felt clammy and heavy.

Worse still, she looked at Merc. He was fuming, his face in a scowl, but his eyes were bloodshot, with bags underneath them. Never mind her, how long had he been up? He usually did night runs while she crashed on the couch. He'd been up all night when she ran off to Pope's office to find Kate, and he was all the previous day as well…and she was pretty sure he was up the night before that, too. And still he sat at that desk and tracked her, drinking coffee like it was water…and worrying.

Guilt hit her like one of Celeste's sucker punches, right in the gut. She pursed her lips, and her eyes faltered, face blushing crimson.

"C'mon, Faith, get some rest," he coaxed, taking a gentler, more reasonable tone. "Kate's been in for less than a day. That's not even enough time to slice any good info from the network. We can hit Ropeburn tomorrow first thing in the morning, once you're fresh."

She sighed, and then ran a hair through her bangs. "Yeah, you're right. I am tired. It's just…well, I'm not sure if I can sleep while Kate's sitting in a CPF holding tank."

Merc clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Won't know unless you try. But trust me, the better you can take care of yourself, the better you can help her."

In the end, he was right. She shuffled over to the couch and sat down, rubbing her eyes. They felt a little gummy, and now that she thought about it, she had been blinking a lot to clear them. Another sign that she needed rest. She pried her Loggos off her feet, the thin socks she wore underneath

"Merc?" she said after a pause. He swiveled in his chair towards her. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get upset."

He smirked. "Didn't mean to yell, but _damn_, you can be a handful sometimes. Get some rest, kiddo."

She snorted, but grinned and kicked back on the couch. "You going to punch out for a bit too?"

"Hell yeah," he sighed. "Just need to get a hold of Drake real quick, then I'll pull out the cot."

Faith shifted on the couch, feeling a little better that Merc was going to get some rest too, then rolled over to get more comfortable. Despite the fact that it was only a little past seven in the evening, the next time she rolled over, it was the next morning.

* * *

><p>'First thing' turned out to be after noon, but it wasn't like Faith and Mercury wasted the whole morning. There was digging to do, Drake had some information for them, and above all, they needed to formulate a plan on how to deal with Travis Burfield, aka Ropeburn. Merc was right – after reading up on him, she wouldn't want to bump into him when she wasn't at her best.<p>

He had an office just off of Ryding Park, just outside of the downtown high-risers. The district was low-topped, with lots of flat buildings close together, and Merc and Drake had plenty of routes planned through there. Getting there was easy, almost effortless, and Blue traffic seemed to have quieted down a little bit since the previous day.

She took a minute to get her bearings after pausing briefly on the way there. The Z Burfield International Shipping offices had a distinct sign and logo on a rotary platform on top of the building, which made tagging it easy from a distance, even amidst the ads and digital scrollers. It was a definite landmark that ensured she wouldn't get lost among the rooftops, which, odd as it might sound, could happen with an inexperienced Runner in a sea of rooftops and ads.

But Faith knew her surroundings, and even if she didn't have Merc tracking her, she could use landmarks to get a sense of direction. Off in the distance, the city stretched on, almost bland and white, outlined and filled in select spots with primary colors. In the distance she could make out The Spire, a long tower with an abstract cudgel-like top that marked the start of the Business District. An angle away from that, rising high out of the downtown skyscrapers stood The Shard, the center for all the city's political seats and offices. It looked like a blue, featureless piece of glass against the sky, appropriate for its name.

By the time noon rolled around, she was just a few blocks away, coming up on one hundred twenty-first, the street the main office was located on. After that, the Flow deviated from the route she had been traversing, taking a gentle detour that moved along the rooftops straight to Z. Burfield International Shipping.

_EdenEstate_, said one billboard in blue and white lettering, _Your own personal, affordable paradise (Sponsored by Callaghan Construction)._ A razor wire-rimmed fence covered most of the next rooftop, but there was a large air conditioning duct that ran along the face of the one next to it. The duct turned upward, but it allowed her to slip within the confines of the fence as it terminated at the roof's edge and make it to a small balcony ahead.

From there, it looked like the way terminated. She dropped down into a small gap between a wall of AC units and the wall ahead of her, which spanned far beyond her reach. However, before she radioed Merc to ask for a go-around, she spotted some low piping where some pigeons were perched. There was just enough room to get a few steps up the wall and grab on, the swing and grab the ledge and climb up. She jumped across the final gap in the alley between buildings, and she set foot on the ZBIS rooftop.

Staying out of sight from a camera's slow pan on the roof access door, Faith shouldered the door down and jogged into a maintenance hallway. Part of the grating for a crawlspace above her head was missing, allowing her to slip in and get to the ventilation system. The crawl through the ducts was short, and with Merc's guidance she dropped down into another access way.

"_Should be a stairwell on the other side of some vents._"

It was a tight squeeze, but doors that presumably lead around them were locked. She pressed her body against the wall and slipped through. The walls around her were concrete, trimmed in orange like the outside of the building, but she still heard movement and noise from within, most notably a radio program talking about Callaghan's latest tobacco tax hike. It was the noon hour though, and most of the building was probably on break.

"_The main ventilation system runs right through the server room, which is up the stairs just ahead of you. That runs right over Ropeburn's office. Just keep a low profile._"

Great, more duct crawling. Faith didn't need to hide her scowl from anyone.

The hallway widened out, turning into a short stairwell that went up about two floors. At the top of the flight, a door opened into what indeed was a server room. Rows of humming computers stood in a short room, and the far wall had some sliver-like windows. She spied movement on the other side, catching glimpses of suits and skirts, but crouched low and snuck behind the row of machines. She already saw the vent on the ceiling, and with the help of a small stool, was able reach it, pry off the wingnuts, and hoist herself up.

The interior of the ventilation duct sagged under her weight once, but after getting a feel for its integrity, she pressed on without only the sound of her clothes rustling. The cool air was a sudden change from the heat outside; while it wasn't overly hot, the temperature difference was enough to make her shiver. The last time she was in an office building's vent, she was fleeing from a SWAT team.

"_Okay, you're a few floors from the top of the building,_" Merc relayed into her ear. "_Ropeburn's office is just a little bit below are showing a duct that drops down about two floors if you take a right at the next t-junction._" Up ahead, said t-junction loomed into view, and Faith squeezed right.

Sections that weren't ventilated were almost pitch black. She wasn't claustrophobic, but the pressing walls of the ducts did make her a little uncomfortable if she thought about it too closely. It was all just a matter of breathing; keep breathing, keep the flow of oxygen going, and just think rationally. If she didn't know where she was going, Merc did.

Squeezing herself in half to take the drop feet first was awkward at best. Few Runners could navigate this far into a duct system. She had a hard time picturing Merc even getting his frame into a shaft, stifling a giddy snort at the thought of him getting stuck. Even Cel could only navigate bigger shafts. Kreeg doing anything was out of the question.

Squeaking down the shaft with her hands and feet on the walls slowed her descent, falling about a floor, and then she kept moving forward. Depending on what was on the other side of the wall, patrons inside the building might think about calling maintenance for the noise.

"_Keep it down! A few more feet and you're there_."

Even if he didn't say anything, she would have realized it. A loud, thick voice with a trace of a growl was emanating from the ventilation cover ahead of her.

"I just do what I'm told, you know that. I don't know what to tell ya…"

Faith slowed her crawl to an even slower pace, using only her arms to drag the rest of herself forward so her knees wouldn't bang, then peered down through the grill. The grating cast a series of lines of light across her face as she gazed down into a spacious office with a sickly orange carpet. Pacing back and forth behind a desk was Ropeburn. Images on the internet didn't do him justice, and Jacknife's earlier appraisal seemed appropriate.

He really was a slab of meat, built thick and tall. She gauged him to be taller than Merc, probably over six and a half feet, with shoulders wider than any linebacker on a football team. His limbs were just as wide, somehow stuffed into a neat black business suit and white dress shirt. He might have been getting up there in years, but he still looked as fit as he did in the wrestling pictures she saw of him from years back.

"I…er, facilitated things," he continued, speaking into a cell phone as he sat down on the edge of the desk. It was either reinforced steel, or he wasn't putting his whole weight on it. "And believe me, I was careful. I got more folks watching me than just you." He listened for a bit, completely unaware that Faith was about two feet above his white, shaggy hair, listening just as closely. "…heh, and he wanted us to wrap her up all nice for those Blues. Couldn't have been neater."

Her. He must have been talking about Kate. Faith's lip turned up into a snarl.

"…yeah, yeah, so it doesn't look so good for you and your little gang, take that up with him," Ropeburn said, and then paused to listen. "Besides, news travels fast in this city. Today's front page is tomorrow's kitty litter. They'll get over him quicker than you think." He paused for a moment, then rolled his entire head in annoyance. "Oh come on, that Runner won't last long! None of 'em will, right? Your precious Project Icarus will be fine. Five-by-five."

_None of 'em will, right?_ That sentence stuck in Faith's head with a chill that wasn't brought on by the running air. He had been undoubtedly talking about her, but then he had mentioned the Runners as a group. Somehow, tied into whatever Project Icarus was, it didn't sound good.

Ropeburn growled in irritation. "Ah, don't get your panties in a bunch. Look, meet me at that new place on Reynolds Street tomorrow, four pm, okay?" He listened for a bit, then held the phone away from his ear slightly, as if to ward off a yell from whoever he was talking to. "Don't freak! They haven't finished building it yet. It's all quiet once you get above street level…alright, see you there…and don't bring any of your little friends. We good? Good. Anyways, I gotta get some chow. Frame like this doesn't maintain itself you know."

He laughed, then snapped his phone shut and lumbered out of the office. Faith waited until all she could hear was the cool breeze coming through the ventilation shaft, then pressed her earpiece, speaking in a low whisper. "Merc, did you get any of that?"

"_Some,_" he replied, sounding a little annoyed, "_but not all of it. Remind me to tell Drake to get better microphones next time._"

Faith gave him the short version: the mention of Kate, herself, the Runners, and Project Icarus, as well as the intended meeting place.

"_So, Jacknife was right…hmph, I don't like it_," he said bitterly. "_Too much we don't know. Whoever he was talking to's not the only one involved._"

Ropeburn had said 'he', but not referring to whoever he was on the line with, but who had he been talking to? Someone involved with Icarus, but whoever it was knew details about the setup. Someone from CPF? If that was the case, what if Miller was involved?

She mulled it over quietly in the cool vent while Merc plucked away back in his lair, and when another ten minutes passed, she shook her head. "I'm going to see if I can find anything else in his office."

There was a scuffling sound in her ear as she picked at the bolts of the vent cover. Merc must have grabbed his headset. "_Whoa, whoa, whoa, Faith, don't do anything stupid! We've got another lead. Head on back so we can find out where he's meeting his contact_."

She ignored him, and when she found that the rusted nuts and bolts holding the vent cover wouldn't budge, she slithered around and got her feet over it, then brought her heel down a few times. It clanged loudly, but snapped free from the abuse after the third kick. She waited a few minutes to make sure the noise didn't attract anyone, then slipped down into the office.

Ropeburn had a nice suite, not unlike Pope's, only everything was tinted with fiery colors. There was the orange carpet, but then several abstract paintings on the walls were done in various yellows and oranges as well. There was a couch on the fair side of the room, a row of filing cabinets, and his desk and computer.

There was also a handgun laying in plain site on the desktop. Faith eyed it warily. If Ropeburn was a legitimate businessman running a shipping corporation, then she couldn't see a reason why he would have a gun sitting openly on his desk.

The computer was her first target, but when she bumped the screensaver off – a bouncing orange Z – she was dismayed to find it password locked. As she turned to dig through one of the filing cabinets, something next to the gun caught her eye on the desk. It was a file of some kind, judging by the light binding. It wasn't titled, save for a digitalized stenciling of a bulldog's face. She reached out to open it—

"—_Dammit!_" Merc suddenly swore, making her jump about a foot in surprise. "_Wire just lit up, Blues inbound to your address! What the hell did you do?_"

"Nothing!" Faith yelled, then winced and remembered to lower her voice.

"_Must've been a silent alarm. God knows when you tripped it. Ass out, now!_"

The folder forgotten, she turned and ran for the door. She had intended to leave through the vent, but it was too high to reach without pulling a chair beneath it, and there was no time. Merc was already rattling off for her to go up, to get to the roof.

The atrium outside of Ropeburn's office was high, about three stories tall and consisting of white tiling beneath a skylight. One side housed a level of offices, Ropeburn's included, and the other side was a high decorative fountain in the shape of stacked cubes. The faces of the fountain were set beneath protective glass. A quick scope of the atrium showed her route: from the top of the fountain, she could make it to the second level, and from there, she could make it to the third. Merc told her that there was another roof access door there.

She thought she had a few minutes to slip out, that the Blues were still on the way. No sooner did she take a step forward did the far door open, and a pair of men rushed in. At first she thought they were Blues, but their uniforms were black, with no silver badges, but they had guns. And they were drawn.

_Of course,_ she realized as she turned and bolted towards the fountain. Of course the building would have private security.


	10. Heat Part 2

**Heat (Part 2)**

It turned out what was covering the fountain wasn't glass; it was a thick plexiglass. Beneath it ran a film of water over brightly multicolored tiles, giving the entire structure a crystalline look that sparkled like colored quartz in the high noon sunlight that drifted in through the skylight. If it hadn't been for the gunfire, Faith might have stopped to appreciate it.

She realized that the plexiglass was probably a good thing. One warning was all she got from the private security before they opened fire. If the fountain had been covered in glass, the whole thing would have come down in jagged shards, likely with her on top of it. As it was, the bullets just let large, gaping holes in the plastic that spurted out water. Her shoes squeaked against the plexiglass as she climbed it faster than a ladder. Another shot, with a spray of shimmering chunks flying everywhere, she wasn't so sure if it would hold after all.

At the top of the fountain, she jumped towards the second level balcony, throwing herself right through a pane of glass. It left a shallow, but hot cut across her arm as tumbled through, but she didn't let it stop her from sprinting. Crunching glass turned to tiled floor as she sped along the balcony, and the gunfire ceased as the guards lost their line of sight. With another burst of speed, she cleared the hand rail that ran along the balcony, taking a few good hard steps on the wall to clear the short gap to the next one. Below her she heard a gasp of surprise from a guard. Too surprised to shoot.

The second balcony followed the outside of the atrium, branching off to more offices. She couldn't, or maybe rather didn't, see anyone else, though it was the lunch hour. A receptionist's desk at the end of the balcony provided an excellent springboard for her to jump up to the third level. The guards on the ground floor had repositioned and begun to fire again. With the added distance between them, their shots went a little wider, but bullets were bullets; aimed at her was danger enough.

"_Up __Faith,__ go__ up,__ find__ that__ door!_" Merc snapped. "_You__ need__ to__ be __long __gone __before __CPF __gets __there. __You__'__re __public __enemy __number __one; __you__'__ve __got _meal ticket_ written __all __over__ you!_"

"Thanks for the reminder," she growled to herself. Private security was bad enough, but at least they weren't city officials.

In the cover of another office three floors up, the guards ceased fire once again, but it would only be a matter of time before they, or another squad moved in. The exit Merc directed her to was directly above her, but unless she moved further into the offices to find a staircase, and possibly more guards in the process, she couldn't reach it. There were, however, a line of poles aligned horizontally from beneath a walkway across that led to the opposite side of the atrium, where banners draped down over the center of the atrium. She traced the Flow across and…yes, she could make it, get up another level, then use the walkway to get to the roof!

Just like in the sewers, Faith leaped out and grabbed the first pole, using her momentum to swing forward and grab the next one. It was harder than the sewer pipes, solely for the sake that she risked getting tangled in the banners and losing precious speed. There were a total of three, and by the time she hit the second one, another stray bullet was fired upward, putting a hole in the skylight above. Whether they were worried about bringing the glass ceiling down, or for some other reason, the guards didn't fire again, and Faith made it to the other balcony, then scaled a wall to get up to the balcony above her. The door to the roof was at the end of it.

The door actually led right back outside, though she found herself in a small passage that led around the roof. The outer wall and ceiling was glass, giving view to the city. Faith followed it around the corner, where the glass turned to the containing wall for the roof of the building. Eventually, it widened out, turning to a small terrace with a few tables and chairs and fake potted trees.

A door slammed open right ahead of her, and she nearly collided with a security guard. He had an automatic weapon in his hand, which he immediately trained on her. Faith ducked low, sliding on her thigh as a burst of deadly gunfire sprayed the air above her, then lifted her leg, catching him in the gut. She was on her feet in a flash as he stumbled back, grabbing the gun's frame with both hands and pulling from his hands. Before he could recover, she draped the gun across the back of his neck, then pulled his head forward into her knee. His head snapped back with a trickle of blood flowing from his nose, and she finished him off with a boot to the chest.

She flung the weapon away and continued running. Even though dropping the guard took a little more than five seconds, behind her she could hear the sound of boots running. The rest of them were already catching up.

The terrace continued a short distance, ending with a railing at the edge of the building. The next rooftop was close, close enough that all she had to do was put on a burst of speed then kick off the railing to reach it. Although she heard some voices and shouts behind her, she kicked in through the next roof access door, leaving the security force on the other roof. From there, she found an elevator that she could have taken to reach a lower section of rooftop, but it was out of service. That didn't stop her from prying open the doors and climbing down the shaft.

"Merc, what's the word?" she asked after exiting the shaft, slowing her movement to a jog.

"_CPF__ still __inbound__ to __Burfield__'__s __office, __so __keep __moving_," he replied tersely. "_Drake__'__s __got __a __hideout __up __ahead. __See__ the __cranes?_"

Faith pushed through a door, back out on the rooftops, then looked up and over the path ahead of her. Two large cranes rose out of a downtown construction project a few blocks away.

"Yeah, I see them."

"_Head__ towards__ '__em.__ You__'__ve __fallen__ off__ the __routes,__so __you__'__re __better __off __following __the __Flow__ for __now.__ Once __you __get __closer, __I__'__ll__ point __you__ in __the __next __direction._"

All she needed was distance. Now that she had ditched security, CPF would canvas the area when they arrived, especially if they knew it was her they were chasing. As long as she could make it out of their search pattern, she could slip away.

The Flow was easy to follow. Heading into downtown, the rooftops got closer together. Gaps between buildings were short and easy, and there was plenty of ground clutter to mantle, jump, and slide around to find optimal paths. But as she traversed the rooftops, that ominous buzzing hit her ears even before Merc warned her.

"_Shit __Faith,__ old __friend __of __yours.__ Chopper __inbound_!"

It was hard to pick it up at first, but then she saw the CPF helicopter drift out from behind a high-rise. Faith immediately ducked out of view. It had been heading towards Ropeburn's office, but at the last moment, it had started to slow down. When she peeked around the corner, it hovered for a bit, then changed its heading, starting to circle around the area.

"Merc, it might have spotted me, but maybe not," she relayed. "Looks like it's making a sweep around the rooftops."

"_Oh__ great,_" Merc complained. "_And __without __any __easy__ routes __to__ disappear __into.__ That __part __of __downtown__ is __full __of__ dead __ends.__ Step __on __the __wrong __rooftop,__you __have __to __double __back __and __find__ another __way._"

"Any ways out from my current position?"

"_Yeah,__but__ not__ without__ you __getting __spotted.__ You __need__ to__ lie __low__ for __a __bit.__Gimme __a __sec._"

While he worked, Faith kept her eyes on the chopper from her hiding spot between two AC units and some piping. She hated having to sit and hide, but she hated it less than getting chased and shot at. The helicopter continued its slow crawl across the sky. It was getting closer, but unless she did something to catch its attention, she could stay hidden. On the adjacent rooftop, it swung low and hovered for a bit. A cable dropped from the side door, and a cop rappelled down onto the surface.

That was different. She had never seen Blues operate like that. Usually, if a Runner was spotted by a helicopter, all they had to do was get to a lower route and shake it off. They never dropped cops to comb the rooftops. Then again, she never expected the ambush in the Howitz building two days ago, or the soldiers in the sewers.

"_Okay, __I __have__ an __idea, __but __you__'__re __probably __not __going __to__ like __it._"

"I'm open to suggestions," she muttered back. "They're starting to drop Blues on the rooftops."

"_Seriously?__ Haven__'__t__ seen __that __before__…__Two __blocks __north,__next__ to __the__ cranes __is__ a __pretty __good __mess __of __scaffolding. __The __new __Daily __City __HQ __is __being __built __there,__ plus __a __couple__ of__ side __projects __on __the __surrounding__ blocks. __Buildings __are __too__ close __together __for __a__ chopper.__ However__…_"

"Let me guess, one way in?"

"_Yep,__ takes __you__ about __two__ blocks __off __any__ navigable __route.__ You __can__ get __to__ the __roof __next __to __it,__but__ that__'__s __it,__ and __that__'__s__ a __dead __end,__too._"

It left a lot of negative possibilities. If the chopper zeroed in on her, it could call for back up, and she'd be stuck while Blues made their way up from the streets. If the chopper was dropping Blues on the roof, it could cut off her way back, which meant she'd be boxed in…still, it was better than nothing.

When the chopper flew low over her, she bounded out, making a b-line straight north for the cranes. Only a few seconds later, the pilot caught sight of her, dipped its nose, and moved in. By then, she had covered the first of two rooftops. By the time she hit the second, the cop on the bullhorn was already yelling for her to stop and surrender.

The scaffolding Merc mentioned stretched around an incomplete building, a proverbial labyrinth of metal platforms, poles, and sheet metal. Blue tarps hung from irregular intervals, and construction tools and equipment were scattered every few feet in every conceivable spot. It was literally a vertical maze of hiding spots, but she noticed right away Merc's reservations. She could make the jump to the scaffolding, and to one of the buildings next to it, but the construction seemed separated from the rest of the buildings.

Nevertheless, she made the leap, landing on the lowest level of scaffolding and immediately disappeared into the mess of beams and platforms. The chopper tried to stay with her, but she snaked through, around, and over materials, careful to keep her movements slow and discrete as she made her way further up. It hovered persistently for a bit, then started to circle the half-finished building like a shark. Every now and then, it had to break off because of the lack of room, but it would always try to rear up next to the building and try to spot her out.

"_Faith, __Blue __traffic __is __getting __pretty __heavy __in __the __plaza __below_," said Merc. She couldn't see them directly, but she heard the sirens below, and the faint flash of blue lights reflecting from the windows on the surrounding buildings. "_Keep __working__ your__ way__ up__ and __get __ready __to__ double __back.__ Gonna __be __a __close __one._"

The clock was ticking. If the Blues on the street had already arrived, then it wouldn't be long before they came up to say hello. Faith warily glanced back towards the way she came. The helicopter had dipped out of sight, but she still heard the rotors nearby. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were starting to figure out something about their routes, but she knew that was impossible; only a Runner would know the regular paths and routes they took.

It didn't change the fact that there would probably be cops waiting for her if she doubled back. If there was only a way to move forward…

She looked up, through the beams of the scaffold to the pair of cranes on the buildings next to her. One was next door, the other on the block next to it. Their arms were stretched over the street, almost crisscrossing.

It was faint, but she traced the Flow across the cranes, up the one on the block next door, up the arm, then across the payload of the second. It would be an insane jump – no, _suicidal_ – but hadn't she just done one like it the other day? The rooftops that connected to the second crane were closer together, and there was no doubt in her mind that she could slip away, as long as the helicopter was out of the equation.

As Merc suggested, she started climbing up, still being careful to stay out of sight from the helicopter. It had returned, and was trying to circle the scaffolding, but was still having trouble navigating the dense cluster of surrounding buildings. Finally, with a frustrated dip, it pulled up over the buildings and began to retreat.

"_Helicopter__'__s__ bugging__ out,_" Merc relayed, sounding relieved. Faith shared that sentiment. "_Must__ have __gotten __a __call __from __mom.__ Blues __aren__'__t__ far__ behind __though,__so __don__'__t__ hang __around._"

Faith was already moving, but it wasn't to get back the way she came. Instead, she worked her way to the top of the scaffolding. The roof of the high-rise was complete, though there was still construction clutter laying around: tools, unfinished materials, and small vehicles for lifting heavy loads. There was plenty of room to get speed, however, and she launched herself over the edge, just making it to the next rooftop that housed the crane with a hard roll.

"_Faith, __what __the __hell __are __you__ doing?__ There__'__s__ no __way __off __of __there!_"

She ignored him, instead focusing on how to get onto the crane. It was surrounded by a razor wire security fence with a locked gate, but there was a stack of pallets near the corner she could climb to jump over it. She turned towards it, built up some speed and—

_BOOM._

The gunshot was loud, almost deafening. Faith jerked, ducking instinctively in stride and almost tipped forward from the start. Judging by the spray of buckshot that shredded the wall next to her, it was a shotgun. The Blue that fired it was dead ahead, having appeared to materialize out of thin air, jacking back the gun's forearm to chamber another shell, but he had gotten too giddy, and missed his first shot. He was wearing a white armored vest over his uniform, his badge pinned sloppily on the breast of it.

Faith recovered with a surge of adrenaline and ran straight him. He brought the gun up, but never expected her to dart to the side, step along the wall and lash out with a kick. She hit him on the arm, with enough force to turn his body and push his gun aside. As soon as she landed, she kicked again, this time straight ahead, but past him. The toe of her Loggo struck the bottom of the shotgun, knocking it free from his hand and sending it upwards, twirling over his shoulder. The cop still held onto it by the rear grip, but she reached forward and snatched it away, then drove the butt of the stock into the back of his skull. He went out like a light.

There wasn't time to celebrate such a fancy move. Another Blue stepped into view, almost identical to the first with another shotgun. He and his partner must have split up to cover the entire roof. Or the first had been only bait for an ambush, she didn't know. There was too much open space between them; he would cut her down if she tried to take him on, so she ran, leaping up the pallets and hopping the razor wire as another shot sounded and splintered the wood beneath her feet.

The crane's ladder was easily scaled, and she mantled the frame as easily as a child would a set of monkey bars with enough cover from the Blue below to keep him from shooting her ass off. Standing on top of it was almost dizzying; the drop to the rooftop was far enough, and beyond that she could see over the edge of the roof to the street below, a nearly fathomless distance with a tiny strip of street and cars. The sound was barely a whisper, save for the rushing sound of wind that threatened to off balance her.

She took a deep breath. The air felt thin, her nerves on end and primed with adrenaline. The Flow took her up the crane's arm, which was a foot or less wide. Not enough for an easy sprint. The jump to the other arm was too far to make; she'd have to jump to its payload instead, and hope her sudden addition to its weight didn't tip her over into the expanse below or have it shake loose.

The Blue below shouted up at her, but she took off running, rubber soles smacking on solid steel. It was impossible to take loping strides; the arm was just too narrow. Her feet scuffed her tied off pants, threatening to trip her up and send her tumbling, but she powered her legs hard, right up until the end of the arm—

—and _leaped_ into the empty air. The Deadpoint was exhilarating, yet terrifying at the same time. The sound of rushing wind, the Blue, and traffic, distant that it might be, simply stopped. Her own heart thudded in her ears over a ringing silence as gravity lost its cruel hold for just a second, then wrapped around her with a new fury. Her arms pinwheeled once, trying to get that extra spurt of momentum from the jump and to keep herself balanced, and her legs scissored in midair to do the same.

The payload that hung from the arm of the second crane, about a dozen thick I-beams packaged together, was just as unyielding as concrete. It tipped under her weight in a foreign manner, and she rolled to absorb the shock. The pale blue sky and the red arm of the crane crossed her vision, and she wondered for a minute if she indeed was about to go tumbling over the edge.

The mass of the payload was plenty to absorb her light weight, only rocking slightly, and she rolled to her feet. Without hesitation, she took another bound and leaped off the beams, aiming for a tarp that sat on the corner of the next rooftop. It collapsed when she landed, but provided a safe enough cushion despite some bumps and bruises. When she clamored out of the mess of tarp and materials, she realized just how hard she was breathing, although she hardly felt winded at all.

On the other side of the gap, the Blue was just barely visible standing on the other side of the building's fencing. It was too far to make out his expression, but he was motionless. Stunned.

A burst of static hit her inner ear. "_Jesus__ Christ__ Faith!_ _Did__ you__ just __do__ what __I __think __you __did?__!_ _God-dammit, __I __just __spilled__ my__ Joe __all __over __the__ keyboard._"

"Re…relax, Merc, I'm fine," she managed to say settling into a light jog. As long as the helicopter was out she could shake the remaining heat. Her motions felt stiff, like she was running just after getting out of bed.

Through a roof access hallway, she was able to shake her limbs out a little more. Merc was silent on his headset, either fuming at her recklessness or cleaning up his desk. Or possibly both. If he didn't say anything about Blue traffic, that probably meant that she was in the clear. Some familiar landmarks came into view, and she recognized the area. She had left Ryding Park, entering the outer fringes of the city before it turned into suburbs. Merc's place was an hour or two away, but it was still early afternoon. She could make it in time for what she had planned.

"Merc?"

"_Yeah?_"

"See if you can dig up a way to contact Miller while I'm on my way back. I need to speak with him again."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I have to say, Heat is my least favorite chapter in the entire game, and I don't know why. It seems almost tacked on, despite there being a pretty big story element in it. I had a hard time writing this one, and it's probably not up to par, so I apologize for the slack off.<strong>


	11. Lockup

**Lockup**

Maybe it was because she had spent the day and night there, but the once familiar interior of the downtown lockup began to take on a smothering feel.

Kate Connors had so far refrained from chewing at her fingernails, but the small, six-by-eight foot holding cell didn't offer much else to keep her occupied, and pacing its length had run its course by early yesterday afternoon. So did sitting on the cot and trying to think about what was happening. Taking a nap was only going to make her more tired, and that was if she could even sleep with her head racing as it was. The temptation to start chewing was looking more and more appealing by the second.

She sighed and ran a hand over her hair as she logged yet another pace across the cell. Another nervous habit: there was just the feeling of having to move, to be active whenever something got her adrenaline running. Her usually smooth, pristine bun was starting to fray from her constant attention to it, and again, her fingers twitched, nails rubbing together. The irritation of rubbing their edges together felt good, but she couldn't sink back into that habit. Not after dealing with sore fingertips and bloodied nails for so long after the academy, and after finally having a measure of stability in her life.

…or rather, what she _used_ to have.

If they hadn't taken her gloves, she would have put them back on to deter the chewing urge further. Of course, they had taken all of her equipment, save for the CPF uniform off of her back, as per standard criminal processing procedure. She felt strangely light without her belt; no sidearm, extra magazines, no pepper spray, baton, or handcuffs. Worst of all was the lightness high on her breast, where her silver badge was once pinned. No The People We Serve, The City We Protect to herald her presence anymore. She was just a woman in a uniform now, not a cop.

There were other distractions that came every few hours, but they were very short lived. Cell doors slamming, officers talking, even a few rare shouts or scuffles with an inmate. The buzz of a cell door, the clang of metal on metal, but it was usually only sounds that took her attention away. She was at the end of the block, and the cell across from her was empty, so there wasn't much traffic past her it. That only made the time go by even more slowly.

She completed another pace, then turned and started another as her thoughts went to how her life unraveled over the last thirty-six hours. The cops that had arrested her had taken only a brief statement before they locked her up, and it was more of an administration thing than anything else. No one from homicide had interviewed her, no one came to update her on the investigation. Granted, it was still early, but it would be obvious to anyone who viewed the security feed that she didn't shoot Pope. With the surveillance system the city had authority over that would have been the first thing they checked!

No, something was wrong, she just knew it in her gut. She was starting to worry that Faith was right, that she was being set up. Otherwise, it wouldn't have taken this long to clear her name. But who would want to set her up for Pope's murder? That was the part she couldn't figure out. The number of high profile incidents and arrests she was involved in was practically zero; no raids on drug kingpins, no organized crime takedowns, nothing beyond petty crimes, domestic disputes, and the occasional traffic incident. Her life as an officer of the CPF hadn't been the most thrilling so far.

Miller hadn't come in to see her yet, either, which spooked her almost as much as everything else. Why wouldn't her own superior come down and see her, if not to get some facts, to try and keep up her spirits? At first she thought that Faith wouldn't go to him because of record, but even if she didn't, he would have to come see her eventually. He wouldn't abandon her like that. Not Miller.

In the end, she just dropped to the cot with a defeated sigh and sat on her hands. There wasn't anything she could do inside a cell. Thinking in circles wasn't going to help her. It was going to drive her insane, and as soon as she started chewing her nails, she would really lose it.

A door clanged open at the end of the cell block, and then footsteps sounded on the concrete floor. A few unpleasant words were muttered from some of the inmates: pig, Blue, and plenty of expletives. The footsteps came closer, until an officer stepped into view. Kate was a little surprised to recognize Joshua Harris, an old acquaintance about her age from the academy. Upon seeing him, she remembered that she'd heard he had been working in lockup for a while.

She offered him a small, friendly smile. "Hey Josh, haven't seen you in a while. How's it been?"

He quickly looked away, almost like he was ashamed of something. "…been fine. Just…busy." He looked over his shoulder. "Open 'er up," he called to the guard station down the hall.

The door buzzed, then slid open, allowing Josh to step in. He locked eyes with her, and though she maintained her smile, he looked away again towards the corner of the cell. She hadn't seen Josh in a few years, but their paths crossed every once in a while. He was always friendly, and would always chat her up to catch up with old times. A chill ran up Kate's spine as her smile faltered; he'd never been this distant to her before. Was he like this because she was accused for murder?

"Sounds like, uh, they want to have a few words with you, Kate," he said. Everything he said was aimed at her shoes. "So, you know…"

She sighed, but lifted her wrists willingly. "Standard procedure, yeah, I know." She even worked in a little eye roll. "Formalities, right? Gotta love 'em."

He slipped his handcuffs from his belt and clipped them onto her wrists without so much as a chuckle in reply. Instinctively, she flexed her arms and pulled against them, but there was no way she was going to break solid steel. She'd been in them once, for training, and now had been locked on twice since yesterday morning. Each time felt worse than the last.

Josh helped her up by the arm to lead her outside the cell, then waved to the guard to close the cell door again.

"How's your wife doing?" Kate asked. He got married last year, but working a string of double shifts made her miss the wedding.

He was gentle when he took her by the upper arm, walking her to the end of the cell block. The butt of his palm was clammy from where it touched the white undershirt beneath her uniform and a patch of skin. "She's, uh, doing good. She's…fine."

Again, he just looked straight ahead after a nervous glance towards her. That chill in her spine intensified, and she decided that maybe she should stop trying to make small talk. Something wasn't right, and whatever it was, it was making Josh look like he'd seen a ghost.

"Hey, Blue," called a voice from a cell to her right. It was a thuggish-looking middle-aged man, leaning against the bars of his cell. He was leering at her as they passed. "Hope they let me have a piece of that tight ass when they lock you up."

Kate swallowed back a wave of revulsion as she looked away, her face suddenly hot. She didn't imagine Josh's tug become a little more urgent when the inmate chuckled. He looked pale, almost sickly, and for once, she felt the same way.

Once out of the cell block, she was able to relax a little as the scenery turned a little friendlier. Concrete halls gave way to office corridors, then the operations floor, with officers going by on their daily business, the air buzzing with activity, ringing phones, radios, and voices. Kate looked down, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She had worked with some of the cops they passed on the way to the interview rooms down the hall. Now they saw her being paraded around in cuffs, without her gear or her badge. It was humiliating.

However, when she looked up, she saw a few new faces, but oddly enough, she didn't think they were cops. At first she thought they were just civilians at the station for some reason or other, and then she realized they were all dressed the same. Black fatigues and black shirts. Most of them even had similar haircuts, and all of them looked pretty built, like soldiers. Some were even carrying sidearms.

They progressed down the hall, passing a few of the interview rooms until they stopped at one. As Josh fumbled with the lock, she saw another one of the black-clad men ushering a cop out of the neighboring observation room. Kate locked eyes with her; she was a young, pretty woman with a head of blond hair. When she saw Kate, her bright eyes widened slightly, and she glanced quickly to the man. His only response was a firm hand on her back, guiding her down the hall towards operations.

The chill in her back turned cold.

She was about to ask Josh just what was going on with the new people when he took her by the arm again to lead her into the room. He wasn't rough, but it caught her off guard and tripped her up on her own feet, sending her into a little stumble, but he caught her. The interview room was almost featureless; bare walls trimmed in green with bright fluorescent lights. There was a single table and a couple of chairs, with a large one-way mirror set in the wall.

He pulled out the chair for her, set her in it, and then left quickly, all the while never looking her straight in the eye or saying a single word.

The door shut behind Josh, and the buzz of the outside hall faded. The air had a muted feel to it, cork lining on the walls and ceiling making it completely soundproof. There was no echo, making the air heavy, and pressing.

Kate put her head in her hands, trying to shake away that claustrophobic feeling. She had hoped getting out of the cell would make her feel a little better, but all she had done was traded one cramped cage for another. A brightly lit, spotless cage with a one-way mirror to look into. She stared hard at it, wondering if someone was staring back. Usually, it was herself looking in, watching Miller or a detective shake down a suspect or criminal. Being on the other side with no backup was unsettling.

At least she looked presentable. Frayed, but presentable.

It was a few minutes later when the door opened again. Her first hope was Miller, or at the very least, a familiar face. What she was greeted with instead were two unfamiliar people: a short, somewhat rounded man in a navy suit with graying hair who looked like he might have been a detective, only she didn't recognize him, and a tall, thickly-built man with a military-style crew cut. He was wearing the same uniform as the ones out in the hall, featureless black combat pants and matching muscle shirt.

The taller of the two shut the door behind them, and the first man took a seat across from Kate at the table. She eyed him warily, glancing to the other one. He stayed near the door, arms folded across his chest and stared her down. She looked away quickly.

"Who're you?" she asked the man in the suit.

"My name is Derek Kruger, Officer Connors," he said crisply, folding his hands in front of him on the table. "I'm the Chief Executive Officer of Pirandello/Kruger Private Security."

"Private security?" she asked dubiously. "What are you doing in a CPF jail? This is city property."

"We are here to bolster city security," Kruger replied cryptically, then eyed her with an air of accusation. "After all, how do you expect the CPF to do their job if one of their officers is a murderer?"

Kate's cheeks burned red hot. Her hands clenched on the metal surface of the table in their shackles. "I didn't kill Pope!" she yelled.

"You were caught with a smoking gun, Connors," he replied, unfazed by her outburst. "I don't need to have the picture painted in front of me to know what it looks like."

She glared at him and just clenched her teeth. He couldn't just accuse her without evidence, but getting riled up wasn't going to solve anything. It would be obvious to homicide when they reviewed the evidence, or rather, lack of evidence. That didn't explain, however, why Kruger and private security were talking with her and not the homicide detectives.

"If you're private security, you just can't sit there and accuse me," she said, calming her voice with some difficulty. "Especially when this case is already being handled by the city. Why are you really here?"

"I'll be asking the questions," he stated firmly, opening the file in front of him and paging through it. "I'm really not interested in how or why you killed Pope. What I _am_ interested in is this."

He took out a photo from the file, spun it on the table so that it faced her right side up, then pushed it towards her. Kate's heart skipped a beat. It was a snapshot from somewhere in Pope's office, Faith clearly centered on it in mid sprint. It was a little blurry, but she could still make out her features, notably her unique digital tattoos.

"Who is she?" Kruger demanded.

She blinked once, hoping that the lingering blush in her cheeks from before hid the second one as it formed. "I don't know."

_Make__ eye __contact. __Try __not __to __blink. __Don__'__t __act __nervous._ She listed the tells in her head, trying to make her answer sound genuine. Thinking about them only made them harder _not_ to do.

"She was seen just outside of Pope's office by some of the officers that apprehended you," he said, then eyed her dubiously. "Munitions logs show that officers fired several hundred small-caliber rounds at her as she fled the scene just outside of Pope's office. She also neutralized two officers several blocks over at Centurion Plaza before vanishing."

"So? I heard the shots SWAT fired…there wasn't much I could do while I was being apprehended. I was alone with Pope, so I didn't see her."

"And you're not in the least bit curious as to how this woman might have been involved?"

"I already told my side of the story," Kate snapped. "I blacked out, and when I woke up, Pope was dead, and someone had tampered with my weapon. I can't explain why she was there, or what she was doing." Her eyes narrowed. "Why don't you just check the surveillance footage? It should show the whole scene. You'd be able to see that someone else shot him."

Kruger gave a wry smile, then turned a page in the file. "Odd that you should bring that up. Footage is conveniently missing from the time you were with Robert Pope. This picture was taken from the feed shortly after it came back up, which leads me to my next question: your mother was Erika Connors, correct?"

Kate swallowed hard, the memories of her mother rushing through her head. Memories of smoke-filled streets, burning fires, screams, and chaos. The sensation of being pressed against from dozens, if not hundreds of people in an attempt to flee gas and rubber bullets. They were the last memories she had of her.

"What does my mother have to do with any of this?"

"She was an MIT graduate, majored in computer sciences." Kruger turned a page, skimming the details on it. Kate could make out that it was all about her mother. "She also worked for the city, often times on electronics and computer systems…much like those that maintain the city surveillance network."

"And?" she asked, but she already knew what he was going to say.

"And, she was married to Abraham Connors, a known activist in _Libertas,_ so I'm sure she had plenty of knowledge, and motive, to get in and tamper with a simple network of security cameras. She might have even taught things like this to her daughter, who also participated in _Libertas_ activity."

"Yeah, I went to a few marches," Kate admitted dryly. "A few_ peaceful_ marches, and my mom didn't teach me, or anyone, how to hack into a security network or conduct cyber-espionage. That's ridiculous."

She held herself steady, speaking from the heart. She knew the tactic. He was trying to get a rise out of her, to try and trick her into saying something stupid by bringing up her mom. She was pissed, yes, but she wasn't going to let some thug from the private sector push her around because he had special permission. Especially when it came to her mother. What was done was done, and anyone talking about, or spitting on, her character and personality wasn't going to change anything.

Kruger leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands across his stomach. "Well, you'll have to excuse me because I'm seeing a perfect motive here. Pope was the head of _Libertas_, and your father and mother willingly followed his efforts. They participated in the November Riots, where she was killed. I'd imagine you'd want some measure of revenge against the man who all but orchestrated her death."

Her lips twisted in another snarl, but she held her temper. "Pope _didn__'__t_ kill my mom! I was a kid back then, and that protest was supposed to be peaceful. He was a family friend, and I didn't kill—"

"As I said, Officer Connors," he interrupted, leaning forward, "I will leave it to homicide to determine your guilt. The fact is that you have a known background with a criminal organization that acted against this cities authority. An unknown suspect appears on the scene within almost the same time frame as Robert Pope's death, where you were also found with the weapon that killed him." He tapped the photo of Faith again. "I know you're connected to her in some way. Who is she?"

The cogs in Kate's head turned for a minute. Something wasn't clicking. He was coming off as all but sure of her guilt, almost like he was brushing it away in ignorance. Bringing up her past was a misdirection; it all led back to Faith. He kept bringing Faith up like she was central to the investigation, but was set on writing her off guilty, hands down. If that was the case, he wouldn't even be asking about Faith. Otherwise, he'd be offering her deals or some other incentive to try and get more information. Something wasn't right.

She tried crossing her arms, then remembered her wrists were still cuffed, so she settled for dropping them in her lap, glaring at him. "I told you what I know. I don't know her, and I didn't kill Pope."

Her silence punctuated the end of her words. Kruger drummed on the table with his fingertip, looking down at the file thoughtfully. She tried to pick up some hidden tell, or tried to decipher what he was thinking, but he remained unreadable. Then he nodded, glancing over his shoulder towards the second man.

"If you would…"

The grunt, whoever he was, nodded once, then stepped forward, clearing the gap in two large bounds. She didn't even have time to react for what happened next.

He grabbed her by the front of the uniform, then pushed. _Hard._ Kate fell over the chair backwards, ripped from her seat as he threw her to the ground. The metal chair clanged loudly in the echoless room, and the next thing she felt was the back of her skull hitting the tiled floor. Sparks danced in her eyes as she let out a short, confused cry, and then his hands were on her again.

Pulling her up by the uniform, he tossed her like she weighed nothing, this time against the two-way mirror. It was bullet-resistant; as good as a solid wall of concrete compared to her small frame. A lance of pain shot up her arm, originating from her shoulder as she struck the thick glass, legs giving way from under her. She hit the floor again in a daze. For a minute, gravity seemed to switch direction, everything disorienting and spinning.

Her stomach wrenched violently as the pain flooded her senses. "W-What the _hell_-" she managed before she was yanked up again. This time, he slammed her down on the table. The entire time Kruger hadn't moved, but now he leaned forward to look her in the eye.

"Officer Connors," he said patiently, "We're not bound by the same limits as your fellow officers, and I have been instructed to obtain the information I asked of you by any means necessary. I would rather not go to the lengths of hurting you, but make no mistake: I will hurt you as much as I need to."

It was the coldness in his voice that terrified her. Her eyes bulged, and she writhed in a vain attempt to free herself. The grunt pressed down hard on her chest, pinning her to the tabletop and crushing her sternum under a wide hand. With her arms cuffed, she couldn't fight back, she was outnumbered—

"_Help!_" she screamed as loud as she could. "_Some one__ help __me!_"

Except that as the thug slammed her to the floor again, she remembered the room was soundproof.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you <strong>**edao for your previous edits, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! If you happen to see any glaring grammatical errors, or if something looks cut or run together, let me know if you can. I've caught the doc uploader doing some unwanted trimming and blending.**

**Inspiration for this chapter came from some of the in-game concept art.**


	12. CPF Part 3

**CPF (Part 3)**

Bradley knocked on the frame of Miller's door later that afternoon. "Hey, Lieutenant, got a minute?"

Miller looked up from his paperwork and rubbed his eyes. Reports were starting to blur together with interoffice requests and memos. "What is it Bradley?" he asked, trying not to sound too irritable.

Bradley looked over his shoulder nervously and then stepped inside, nudging the door shut with his foot. Miller frowned. Bradley always seemed to be nervous about something; it was something Moreno enjoyed exploiting to a devious extent, but he seemed more nervous than usual with a laptop tucked under his arm.

"Remember how you told me and Abby to ask a few questions? Well, I did." He set the computer down on his desk and opened it, coming around to his side so he could work the keyboard. "It wasn't easy with those PK thugs already dug in like ticks across almost every precinct. I get the feeling that none of them want us prying into this."

Miller agreed. Captain Briggs still hadn't budged about letting him go see Kate. He was doing some digging of his own, but like Bradley said, it was getting hard with Pirandello/Kruger literally moving in to the precinct. They were already starting to assimilate office space and load munitions and weaponry into the armory. New patrol routes were being assigned to officers, and they usually had a PK enforcer tagging along, or shared work with another PK unit. Plus, he had a precinct to run. If things started piling up on his end, it would be obvious that he was neglecting his duties.

"What did you find?" he asked.

"Security footage from Pope's surveillance network, straight from homicide's database. A friend of mine was able to pull it for a favor."

Miller leaned forward to clap a hand on the keyboard before he could continue. "Wait, did you—"

"—yeah, I pulled the wireless card," Bradley assured him. "The city network won't know we're looking at it, and this is only a copy."

He relaxed. The city electronic surveillance system was deep; deep enough that you didn't want to be on the wrong side of it. Just because you weren't directly connected to it didn't mean a hidden signal could access your computer wirelessly or through an internet connection. Even if the wireless card wasn't activated, remote transmitters could record what they were doing. The safest thing to do was to physically remove any access, wireless or otherwise. The last thing he wanted was for Briggs, or Kruger for that matter, to know they were looking at restricted evidence pertaining to Kate's investigation.

"Good. So what are we looking at?"

Bradley pressed a key, and the security footage played on the computer. No audio, just black and white video. It showed Pope, alive and well in his office, writing in something on his desk. It looked like a small book. _A__ diary_, he remembered. Faith said the piece of paper she was had taken was from his diary.

In the video, Pope looked up and smiled. Kate walked into frame, and the two shook hands, then sat down at his desk, apparently chatting casually.

"Watch," Bradley instructed.

His warning wasn't even needed. One minute, the feed was normal, and the next, it faded to static. When it returned a split second later, Pope's office was filled with armored cops, with Kate on the floor being handcuffed roughly.

"You're kidding me," he said flatly.

Bradley shook his head. "Nope. The entire building's feed was working perfectly up until a few minutes before the coroner puts Pope's time of death, then pops back in as soon as the SWAT team arrives at the scene. Pope's office, hallways, elevators, nothing. Convenient, huh?"

Yes, convenient for whoever really shot Pope. No wonder it wasn't an open and shut case. Someone had tampered with the surveillance system, the one thing probably would have cleared Kate completely.

"Look, on his desk," he said, pointing to the screen, noticing something. "He was writing in something when Kate arrived." He tapped the rewind key, bringing the footage back to the start. "It's there in his hands before…" He moved the footage forward, then paused it after the burst of static, to where he was laying dead on his desk. "…but now it's gone. Forensics wouldn't have tagged or removed any evidence until later."

"What if he got up and put it away?" Bradley suggested. "After the feed cut out."

That couldn't be true, because Faith found Pope with a piece of it in his hand when he was dead, unless she was lying and had taken the whole diary for herself instead, but that didn't seem likely. Whatever was in that diary had to have been important. Of course, he couldn't tell Bradley about meeting Faith, but he realized he had to back up what he just said.

"I doubt it," he said slowly at first. "The way he pushes it aside in the first place suggests he was going to return to it later, after Kate left. Given the amount of time that's passed on the video's time stamp, it was probably still on his desk when he was shot."

Bradley looked like he agreed with that and nodded. "So someone else was in the room when Pope was shot and took it. Some kind of evidence you think?"

"Possibly, though we can only speculate at this point. Whoever killed him knew they would have a window of access where they wouldn't be seen, so the next question is who had access to Pope's security network?"

"Travis Burfield," Bradley answered immediately, putting a file in front of him. Miller was surprised at how thorough he was able to be. "Known around the streets as 'Ropeburn'. Database didn't have much on him, other than the fact that he used to be a professional wrestler. That's where the nickname came from. He opened his own import/export industry here in the city, Z Burfield International Shipping. Also dabbles a bit in private security, which is probably why Pope hired him in the first place."

Miller paged through the file as Bradley continued, but there wasn't much new information other than what was in the file. From the photos, Burfield himself certainly looked like a thug, but other than some misdemeanors tied into the security aspect of his company, there wasn't mention of any criminal record. That made him an aggressive businessman, but not necessarily a murderer. Dangerous, but not a proven criminal. Yet.

The fact that he was accused – but never convicted – of manslaughter from an incident in his wrestling career didn't ease Miller's conscious.

"If he's as successful as this makes him seem," Miller said slowly, "then Pope's murder wouldn't be good for business." No one would hire a private security company that couldn't protect their client. "Unless he stands to benefit from it in someway that we're not seeing."

Bradley only shrugged, then let his hands fall to his side. Miller recognized the gesture. That was it, show's over. He had presented what he had, and now he was out of ideas. But it was at least more than they had the day before, and it was clear that Travis Burfield was involved in this somehow. They had new avenues to explore.

"Alright, it sounds like we may have something else to look into," Miller said. "Bradley, make sure this stays quiet, and cover your tracks. I don't want Briggs finding out that we've seen this footage, or anyone from PK for that matter. I'll bring Moreno up to speed later today."

"Got it, boss."

Bradley left, taking the computer with him. Miller ran his hands over his face, leaned back in his chair, and then closed his eyes in thought. The few pieces they had still didn't fit together, but it was becoming more and more obvious that this was a set up. They couldn't approach Briggs with the security footage and the missing diary just yet. There wasn't enough to completely clear Kate with all the holes in the evidence, and he'd reveal that he and his subordinates were disobeying orders.

He considered the facts: they had no way of knowing who really shot Pope with the evidence on hand because the entire building's network mysteriously went down. Pope's killer had likely planned this, and Kate was intended to take the fall after regaining consciousness; there was no evidence to prove her innocent otherwise.

And then he suddenly thought of something.

If the network was down, no one would have seen Faith break into the building. She herself had said it: she was in the same room as Kate, but she did not show up in the footage Bradley showed him. Suddenly, Kruger starts bringing up the Runners, patrols are increased, more and more helicopter patrol routes are being run to scan the rooftops…it was all to coincidental. PK's concern over the Runners suddenly increased as soon as Pope was murdered.

How much did they stand to gain from this? Their enforcers were pushing further and further into the CPF's duties, and it had only been days since they first started. Their stocks would rise, they'd get more funding. They stood to gain a _lot_, but what did that have to do with Faith, or the Runners for that matter?

But, once again, there was no proof, and he wasn't just accusing a business. Kruger had said it himself: Mayor Callaghan brought them in, and he just couldn't hurl accusations at the mayor without evidence. Even if he was guilty.

The phone on his desk suddenly rang, jarring him from his thoughts with a start. Miller smoothed back his hair and sighed at the interruption. It was impossible to focus on anything for more than a few minutes while attending to the needs of the precinct. He picked up the phone. "Miller."

At first he thought it was a wrong number, because he was met with silence, but he could hear the faint buzz of background noise coming through the earpiece. Movement, talking, the sounds of a busy life. Then, a faint, timid voice spoke.

"_…__um,__ Lieutenant __Miller?_"

He sighed again at having to repeat himself. "Yes, this is Miller. Who is this?"

"_Um, __this __is __Officer__ Sue__ Quinn__…__I__ work__ down town __lockup__…_"

"Ah…yes," he said slowly. The name didn't ring any bells. "Officer Quinn, is there something I can help you with?"

"_I__…__look, __I __could __get __in __a__ lot __of __trouble__ for __this, __but __you__'__re __Kate__'__s __superior __officer,__ and..I__ just __can__'__t_…"

The mention of Kate's name alone suddenly grabbed his attention. "What? What about Kate?"

Quinn's voice on the other end sounded hushed, like she was trying to speak discreetly, and at the same time, she sounded terrified. "_Look,__ I __was __working __one __of __the __obs __rooms, __routine __check __for __an __interview __later __today, __but __suddenly __it __gets __bumped, __and __one __of __those __guys __from __Pirandello/Kruger __kicks __me __out, __but __I __saw__ them__ bringing __in __Kate, __and __they __were __pulling __other __cops __from__ the __hall __out __of__ there, __and __oh __God, __I__ just __have __a __really __bad __feeling __about __this, __and __I__ didn__'__t __know__ what__—_"

It was hard to get all of Quinn's run-on through the phone, but after a second of thinking, he pieced it together. Downtown lockup had interview rooms to questions suspects and inmates, like a few of the ones they had at the fourteenth. Quinn must have been one of the supervising officers, but PK had kicked her out, along with the other officers…but then…

It hit him hard…Very hard.

He didn't even say good-bye. He just slammed the phone back into its cradle, then was out the door, smashing it open so hard that it nearly shattered the glass pane. He sprinted down the hall, through the fourteenth's operations center, barreling over a passing cop who stepped into his way. He knocked him to the floor hard, but didn't stop to apologize. Around him, officers and staff looked on in alarm at the sudden disturbance. He didn't care, or even really notice. The singular purpose of getting to the downtown lockup as fast as possible consumed his thoughts.

Ahead of him, Moreno stepped into view, yawning with a cup of coffee in her hand. She blinked tiredly, but her eyes went wide the minute she saw him coming at her with the force of a hurricane. "Chief, what—"

"_Moreno, __with __me!_" he yelled as he shoved past her. There was a clatter of Styrofoam and a splash of liquid, and she was suddenly trailing him, legs pumping hard to keep up.

The elevator had just shut on a pair of detectives, but it would have been too slow anyway. Miller continued just past the doors, towards the stairs. Through the stairwell door, bashing it open with his shoulder, then down the steps three at a time, grabbing the railing to take the corners hard. Halfway down each flight, there was a _thump_ behind him as Moreno leaped down the last five steps of each flight to keep pace. The pattern continued down five flights, until he burst through the parking garage door.

"Boss, what the hell is going on?" Morneo called behind him, finally catching up as he slowed to get his keys out of his pocket.

"PK has Kate, and I don't know what they're doing to her," he snapped, unlocking his car. "Get in!"

Moreno slid into the passenger seat as he started the engine and slapped the CPF-standard blue light on the top of his car. It wasn't the full array from a CPF cruiser, but the blue gumball could still put on quite a light show. He floored it out of the lot, rubber squealing on concrete and nearly taking the toll booth with him before its arm could rise to let them out. As soon as he was on the street, he cued the siren.

The downtown streets were still choked with traffic, but he muscled through, aided by the siren and flashing lights. What cars could pull over did, allowing him to push through with relative ease, but it wasn't fast enough for him. Moreno grabbed the passenger handle above her, bracing her other hand on the dashboard after a particularly close call with an SUV that honked angrily.

"Shit, you don't think—" she began, but he cut her off.

"I don't know what to think," he snarled, "but it's too damn convenient. PK appears right after Pope's death, and they're starting to take over. If they had a hand in this, I don't want them anywhere near Kate."

The drive normally took about twenty or so minutes from the fourteenth, precinct but that was an eternity. Kate was trapped in a cell with the people who could have killed Pope and set her up. He needed to be there _now._ Whatever they were doing with her couldn't have been a casual chat.

Making it in record time wasn't enough, and he didn't even waste time on parking. There was a small spot open in front of the building, which he simply drove into, one of his front tires bumping up onto the curb. The front bumper nearly took out a parking pay station. Some of the pedestrians on the sidewalk even jumped to the side as he ground the car to a halt, as if in fear he would run them all over.

Both he and Moreno were out in a flash, the siren off but the light still flashing atop his car. Downtown lockup was a small, but long building nestled between some higher ones, with a flight of steps leading from the sidewalk to the front doors. The front was styled in Roman columns, contrasting the building's older style of architecture from the more modern, sleekly built ones that surrounded it. There was plenty of foot traffic up and down, but anyone who saw him running quickly stepped aside.

The revolving doors gave way into the open, tile floor lobby, spitting Moreno out right behind him. It took him a second to get his bearings; desk in front, precinct operations to the left, jail visitation to the left and up a floor…which put interrogation towards the back. As he turned and started moving, a figure started waving wildly in front of him. It was a female officer, with bright blonde hair.

"Miller? I thought we got disconnected, I, hey—"

It had to have been Quinn. Her voice sounded like hers over the phone, but he ignored her, brushing by her at the desk. Another cop got in his way, and he promptly shoved him to the side.

"Room five!" she yelled after him as he pushed through the doors past the desk. "She's in room five!"

He skidded on the tile floor a little bit rounding the corner, but made it to the precinct's operations center. Someone stepped out in front of him. Black uniform, military crewcut; a PK enforcer. He didn't move, so Miller just went through him instead, knocking him off his feet where he bounced off a desk. Moreno hopped over his body, still hot on his heels.

Through another door, the furnished walls of operations turned into a concrete hallway with several doors lining it. He spotted room five, towards the end. Another PK enforcer stood guard, spotting him and yelling for him to stop, but he didn't slow down in the slightest. This one had the sense to leap to the side as Miller lowered his shoulder and hit the door with all his strength.

The door was thick and heavy, but the latch broke on impact with a screech of wood and metal, sending a dull throb of pain up his shoulder and burning deep into the muscle. The sudden change in speed and force almost sent him into a tumble, but he skidded to a halt and kept his footing. White fluorescent lights were hard on his eyes, and when they adjusted, he was greeted with a sickening sight:

Kruger, casually standing with his hands in his pockets watching a PK enforcer in the corner of the room. The enforcer was standing over a figure, his boot on their neck.

It was Kate, handcuffed and futilely trying to lift the treads from her neck, all the while gasping for breath with rasping coughs.

There was a screech from behind him, startling him from the scene, and something nearly knocked him over as it shoved past. It was Moreno, a blur of tan skin and blue as she leaped forward onto the table in the center of the room, and then onto the enforcer's back. The two of them stumbled away, turning to a mess of flailing limbs and Spanish expletives.

Miller went straight for Kruger, grabbing him by the lapel of his jacket and slamming him against the wall, but he didn't expect the right hook from out of nowhere. He took it square in the jaw, pain blossoming up the side of his face. It was enough for Kruger to get another shot in to his gut, but Miller, having taken more than a few punches over the years, recovered from the initial surprise and blocked the next punch, throwing one of his own.

The next few seconds happened so fast that he didn't even remember them. He remembered trading blows, Moreno's curses, and faint pain dulled by adrenaline as Kruger landed another blow.

Moreno's scream came out of nowhere. "_Gun!_"

His hands went up, drawing both of his sidearms in one fluid motion from the holsters under his arms. The one in his left he trained on the enforcer, who had just pulled a gun on Moreno. Moreno had her own sidearm up, nearly jamming it into his chest as she leveled it in a firing position. He turned the gun in his right hand towards Kruger, who had also drawn a gun from inside his suit coat. It looked like a large caliber semi-auto, with a tactical light mounted on it. Miller was staring straight down the barrel, and suddenly, everything got very quiet.

Mexican standoff.


	13. Standoff

**Standoff**

The room was nearly silent, save for the sound of breathing. Miller recognized his own: slow and controlled to minimize the drifting of his guns. From off to his left, Moreno's was raspy like the hiss of an animal through her bared teeth, and beside her was the sound of the enforcer, also slow and deep. In front of him, Kruger's felt heavy, borderline of a pant and indicative of someone out of shape, and a light sweat had already broken out on his face from the short, but intense tussle. His own face throbbed from the blows, but it hadn't been enough to draw blood.

Under all of it, he heard the soft, fluttery, and shuddering gasps of Kate, laying on the floor somewhere between him and Moreno. He wanted to look at her and make sure she was alright, that she wasn't delirious or bleeding profusely, but he didn't dare take his eyes of Kruger or the weapon that was leveled at him. He could only hope that the gun in his left hand stayed on the enforcer, and that Moreno didn't put herself in the line of his fire. Too many targets and friends to track such a small room.

Kruger swallowed hard once, and then bared his teeth in rage. "Lieutenant, would you mind telling me what the _hell_ you think you're doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Miller replied tightly. "Put down your weapon, Kruger. Tell your subordinate to do the same."

"I'm doing exactly what Callaghan has requested of me," he shot back, ignoring his order.

"Beating a defenseless CPF officer? Drawing a weapon on a city official? The last time I checked, that's all criminal activity."

"I'm getting information," he corrected, "by any means necessary. Officer Connors is hiding something about what happened with Pope's murder. The mayor understands what needs to be done, and I believe he put me in charge, not you, so why don't _you_ put down your gun?"

"Not going to happen," Miller said dryly. "Not while Kate is my subordinate. I won't stand by and let you abuse her over some wild, unfounded hunch. There are channels to be followed, and just because you're Callaghan's private security dog doesn't mean you can go around beating up cops. As soon as my Captain gets wind of this—"

"As soon as your Captain gets wind of this," Kruger interrupted, "you'll be suspended immediately, possibly even discharged from the CPF, since I recall him telling you to stay away from this case. As will your subordinate here. Believe me, Miller, if Connors knows something, I'll get her to tell me, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me."

"Try to touch her again, _cabrón_. _Te corto tu pelotas_!" Moreno snapped.

There was a stir of movement, the sound of bristling to his left, and Miller tensed. By proxy, Kruger sagged into a lower stance at the sudden shift, his hands tightening alarmingly on his gun. The action forced a dangerous twitch over Miller's finger, right on the trigger of his gun.

"Moreno, shut up," Miller growled tersely. His forehead was starting to grow damp, and a cramp ran up both his arms. As fit as he was, holding two guns up in either hand, the other unable to support the other, was taxing.

"Miller, I will not order you again to stand down," Kruger said. His voice had taken on a low, dangerous tone. "Whatever you think you know about this case, I assure you, you know_ nothing_. There are things you don't need to know about, and things that you aren't fit to handle."

Miller saw the chance and took it. "Like Icarus?"

Evidently, Kruger didn't play much poker. He blinked at the comment, color working into his face. Sure enough, he'd hit a sweet spot, and just confirmed that whatever Pope was writing about in his diary when he died connected to Pirandello/Kruger, and that whoever killed him didn't want that connection to be known. What that connection was remained to be seen, but at least it was something. Or maybe there wasn't even a connection at all, and it was just relevant to the case in some minute detail.

"Come again?" he feigned, but the damage had been done, and he knew it.

Miller couldn't work much of a shrug in without moving his arms, but the point was made. "Oh you know how it is: people in a setting they're really not qualified to work in, they talk and tend to let things slip. Unprofessional, isn't it? Imagine what it would be like if CEC News got a hold of something like that?"

He even worked in an insult as well. The entire trip suddenly seemed worth it.

For a split second, the air grew thicker, and Miller thought that Kruger might actually fire. Maybe he had poked too far. He saw the gears turning, and his mouth pursed into a thin line. But then slowly, he turned his gun up, chambering it to his shoulder before making of show of re-engaging the safety. Miller kept his gun on him until he holstered under his jacket. Kruger motioned to the enforcer, who reluctantly followed suit. Moreno mimicked her superior, and once the enforcer's gun was holstered, she turned and dropped to a knee next to Kate, who was still lying petrified on the floor.

Miller let out a very long breath that he didn't realize he had been holding at some point. Kruger glared at him, looking like he had something else to say, but he just beckoned to the enforcer and stalked to the door. He wasn't sure what nerve he struck by mentioning Icarus, but he had at least put him on the retreat. For now.

Moreno had helped Kate to a sitting position by the time the two of them left the room. Her hands were still cuffed, clasped on Moreno's arm as she held her in an embrace, gently stroking the side of her hair.

"It's okay, _chica_, it's okay," she said soothingly. "_Yo estoy aquí para tí_, just relax."

With relief, he noticed her injuries weren't as bad as he initially feared, at least from what he could see. She had a black eye, and a thin cut on her lip oozed a glaze of blood onto the cleft of her chin. Perhaps there were some minor injuries he couldn't see, but she seemed more shaken up than seriously hurt.

When she looked up at him, he barely recognized her. Kate was one of his more competent officers, a very by-the-book type of woman, but he saw more fear in her eyes than a cop should show after a beating. She was starting to crack under the pressure. For a moment, he considered telling her everything he knew, about meeting with her sister, about knowing it was a setup, but in her state, he didn't want to accidentally work her into a hopeful frenzy because he almost had no way to actually help her. There was also the factor that Moreno was right there, and he still didn't want to let her on to Faith.

In the end, he helped Moreno get Kate to her feet, then placed a warm hand on her back. "Hang in there, Kate," he said. "We're working on getting you out. Have a little faith."

Her brown eyes widened slightly, and he saw that familiar sparkle behind a glassy shine of tears. She got the reference.

Before she could respond, he turned to Moreno. "Take her to the infirmary and make sure she's okay. I'm going to talk to the sergeant here and make sure there's an officer monitoring her at all times. A CPF officer."

They helped lead Kate out of the interview room. A few curious people had begun to gather outside. They hadn't been exactly subtle in their entry to the building, and the sounds of the short brawl had probably been what attracted them. The small crowd – officers, PK enforcers, and even a few civilian administrators – quickly dispersed under his glare and upon seeing the battered Kate, but after that, they didn't make it very far down the hall. Kruger and his thug were waiting for them just outside.

Kate apprehensively drew back into his side at the sight of them, and like a guard dog, Moreno stepped forward between them, shielding Kate with her body. "You _puta m_—"

"Moreno," Miller snapped, clapping a hand on her shoulder before she could say – or do – anything stupid, "take Kate and get her patched up. Mr. Kruger and I need to have a talk."

With a parting glare, Moreno hooked her arm under Kate's, guiding her past Kruger, but deliberately making the effort to brush shoulders hard with the enforcer. He grunted, but didn't retaliate. Miller set a mental reminder to have a talk with her about turning down her attitude in these kinds of situations.

"I have to say Lieutenant, you have some brass tacks," Kruger said once Moreno and Kate were out of earshot, then lifted a hand to rub a sore spot on his temple. "I'll respect that, but I don't have to admire it."

"I can't say we share the same mentality," he replied evenly, eyeing first the enforcer, then Kruger again. "A man who operates with your methods has neither my respect nor admiration."

Kruger only shrugged, as if the comment fell beneath him. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to divulge who shared details about this case? Briggs notified me that you weren't allowed to touch it."

This time it was Miller's turn to shrug. "Sorry, but your personnel, your responsibility. I can't help it if I overhear something in passing."

He seemed satisfied with that, but only on a superficial level, like it wasn't even a concern. "That may be as it is. I never struck you for a gambling man, Lieutenant, but I recognize a roll of the dice when I see one. It doesn't matter if you heard it from my people, or if you've been snooping around in places you shouldn't be. Just remember that bluffs don't work twice."

So he knew that all he had was the name, that he was groping around in the dark, but just barely, just enough that he knew to back off a little. Enough to do some quality control and play a more conservative game. Miller still counted it as a victory. Anything to get Kate away from these people was a win in his book.

However, Kruger wasn't done. He took a step forward, first glancing to the floor as he crossed his arms, but then locked eyes with him. They were cold and determined, but they looked on him like he was beneath him. "Let me just make something clear to you Miller: you can't stop the inevitable. The CPF screwed up. One rogue cop just put a huge crack in the entire force. The public will see this, and they will want change, something they can trust. Maybe you can stall it, but sooner or later, more cracks will start to show, and when they do, PK will be there to fill them in."

He wasn't sure if the threat could have been any more clear, but he didn't give him the pleasure of a reply. Kruger just smirked and stepped back, seemingly satisfied, then turned and walked away with the enforcer on his heels. He gave them a head start before making his way back to operations.

It was clear to him that the stakes were being raised. Whatever PK wanted, it wasn't just limited to Pope and Kate. Kate was as clean as they came…except that she had family on the other side. Faith. Kruger said that Kate was hiding something about the murder.

The only thing he could think of that fit the bill was her sister.

* * *

><p>It was hard to work and focus the rest of the day at the fourteenth's headquarters after what went down in lockup, so much so that he nearly missed the message when it came to him.<p>

In a highly digitalized city, email spam was something of a plague. The dedicated junk blockers and firewalls in the CPF network did an astounding job at keeping it away, so Miller was quite surprised when one managed to sneak into his regular email, but it was something that happened from time to time. Of course, he didn't bother to read it, as it was likely something to do with male enhancement, 'secure' online banking, or something about a dead relative suddenly granting him a ludicrous amount of money.

However, as he was just about to junk it, he saw the address it was from:

He 'accidentally' opened the email.

_Hey there! Ever get the sense that you need to talk to someone? But you work late all the time! St. Mary's invites you to take a leap of faith and call our confession hotline, right after work…_

Miller dumped the email into his computer's trash. It looked like he was going to work a little past punch out again.

* * *

><p>Later that day, he walked into the underground parking garage to leave. Like the day before, it was mostly empty between leaving shift and the incoming one. He reached into his pocket, keyed the remote unlock switch, and his car chirped in response. A faint sound on the other side of the garage immediately grabbed his attention, a clatter of shifting metal coming from directly in front of him. He scanned the area, but he didn't see anything. Instead, he <em>felt<em> her presence simply appear. From behind him.

"I received your message," he said, turning around. Faith was waiting there, arms crossed. She looked more or less the same, ratty and tattooed, only this time wearing a different pair of track pants. "You wanted to talk?"

"I started looking into Travis Burfield," Faith said casually enough, but her mismatched stare watched him carefully.

Miller's own eyes narrowed. She was already one step ahead of him, and that made him uncomfortable. "Why?"

"He's Pope's head of security. Knew the building's system up and down like the back of his hand. I'm guessing from the fact that Kate isn't cleared already means someone tampered with your fancy security network?"

Hearing her talk about the city surveillance network and what Kruger mentioned about the Runner's being cybercriminals made him even more uncomfortable. He knew so little about Faith, but she was letting some of her true colors shine. Just how organized and experienced were the Runners? "So you think he killed Pope, then?"

Faith shrugged. "Maybe. But he sure as hell set Kate up. Heard him say he wanted a cop to go down for it…and he wasn't alone. Also heard him mention Project Icarus."

If she didn't go out and say it, her body language did. The cock of her head, the languid slouch of her crossed arms, and the glint her eyes. She still didn't trust him, and the tone of her voice was demeaning.

"So you spied on Burfield then? Risky, considering you're a suspect in this case."

"I was just a little curious as to why the CPF hadn't approached him yet as a suspect. It's obvious he's involved in this, and working with _someone _close to the case."

"Burfield is dangerous, Faith," Miller said, dodging what she was insinuating. He didn't want to reveal that he was being blocked from the case. "He's not someone you want to mess with."

"He framed my sister," she spat. "So I'm damn sure going to mess with him. I'm not going to let him, or whoever he's working with use her to get what they want."

Miller swallowed hard as she looked away. It was what he had been thinking about all day. 'What they want'. What Kruger wanted was the Runners; it had to be. And standing in front of him was a Runner. He made up his mind then and there.

"I'm sorry, Faith," he said, steeling himself.

"For what?" she asked, finally glancing back towards him.

He didn't respond, but instead he drew one of his guns and held it on her chest. She didn't move, save for her eyes tracking from the muzzle then back to his face, her expression turning from confusion to realization and hate.

She was silent for a moment, but when she did speak, it was quiet and cold. "Why?"

"We have private firms muscling in on our districts," he explained. "Whatever Pope's death stirred up, they're trying to take over. 'Bolstering city security' they call it. They're breathing down our necks, waiting for us to slip up, and the only way they _might_ go easy on us, easy on Kate, is if we give them—"

"—me," she finished coldly.

Miller didn't say anything else. He didn't like what he was doing, and maybe Faith didn't understand, but this was for Kate. If Kruger had Faith, the last piece of the puzzle, then there would be no need for PK to tyrannize Kate. There would be evidence to exonerate her, PK would get their Runner, and if a CPF official was to bring her in, it would show Callaghan that they were more efficient than private security, if that was indeed a legitimate threat. Kate might even be able to piece her career back together.

He kept telling himself all that, but it didn't make it betraying Faith feel any better.

She stood motionless, almost statuesque, with her arms still crossed. Miller was just about to order her to put her hands up when she _moved_. He couldn't even see it coming. There was no shift into a fighter's stance, no tell saying that she was about to attack, just motion. The next thing he realized was her foot cutting through the air between them.

The toe of her shoe hit him on the wrist, sending a stinging pain up his arm as she kicked his gun away with a grunt, but he managed to hold it. In the same motion, she slid forward and grabbed his wrist before he could bring it back around. Miller probably outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, all of it muscle, but she somehow managed to twist his arm into a lock behind his back and hold it there.

Miller grunted, but she had his arm wrenched up and back. Suddenly, he felt her hand on his side, scrabbling at the holster that held his second gun. He clapped a hand on top of it, then turned, breaking free of her grip. He drew his second gun just as the other was wrenched from his grip, and when he turned and raised it, he found himself looking down the barrel.

For the second time that day, he was in a standoff.

All he could do was stare dumbfounded at how eerily fast she had been, and she wasn't even breathing hard. Faith glared back, her lip curled and showing teeth. She had both hands on the gun, feet spread into a shooting stance. If she fired from that range, at his unarmored chest, he wouldn't be walking away alive.

The muscles in her throat worked hard. "All I care about is Kate…" she said. The gun shook slightly, and then amazingly, she lowered it, despite the fact his was still pointed at her face. "…so for her sake, I'm going to let you go." She ejected the magazine and racked the slide, the chambered bullet clattering to the floor along with the clip, then offered it handle up to him. "But I swear, if you _ever_ pull a gun on me again, I _will_ kill you."

Miller slowly lowered his gun, then reached out and took the other back hastily. His cheeks burned with color. Faith turned her back on him and stalked away, slipping further into the shadows of the garage. He almost ordered her to stop, but then realized what an idiot he had been, and her next words only confirmed it.

"And right now, I think I'd be doing the city a favor." After that, she was gone.

Miller leaned heavily against the hood of his car. Faith's threat and comment stung hard. The tinge of color blossomed into full on shame as he ran his hand over his face in frustration. Just what had he been thinking? He'd been so focused on trying to secure Kate's freedom that he didn't even think about what the consequences might entail. Faith was her only family. What would she have said when she found out he was the one who delivered her to the same people he rescued her from in lockup? It was the same reason why Faith didn't just shoot him; he saw the look in her eyes, the realization that it would have hurt Kate further.

Securing was what PK did. It didn't matter what got in the way, or what was destroyed in the process. He wasn't private security, he was a police officer. Securing the city wasn't the same as serving it, as protecting the people. The very same motto was etched on the badge on his chest. He nearly threw away his entire career as an officer in thinking otherwise. Apprehending Faith would have secured Kate, not protected her.

So in order to protect her, and to serve the city and figure out this conspiracy, he needed to start handling things like a cop. And that meant tracking down Travis Burfield.


	14. Ropeburn Part 1

**Ropeburn (Part 1)**

Faith thought the run back to Merc's lair would help cool her off, but if it did anything, it only got her fired up even more. Her blood flowed faster, her skin flushed hotter. She was pissed. By the time she reached the gutted AC unit, her jaw was sore from clenching between breaths.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_," Merc exclaimed as she dropped in and proceeded to kick the table frustration, nearly toppling it. A bolt of pain shot up from her instep. Wrong place to kick a hunk of wood and plastic.

"I knew I should have waxed him when I had the chance," she spat angrily. She pulled her bangs back, the blood throbbing in her temples. Stupid, _stupid_ to trust a Blue. "Goddamn Miller, should have – _should have_ – dropped him right there! Or at least beat the shit out of him."

"Okay, then why didn't you?" Merc asked offhandedly, spinning to face her in his chair as she stalked back and forth from one wall of the lair to the other.

"Because…" Faith faltered as she glared at him, then looked away, catching her breath. "It was a standoff; he would have shot me too, and I'll be damned if I let some Blue—"

"Bull," he replied. "Like him or not, you know your sister's close to him. Would you really want to face her after you did something like that?"

"Shut up!" she snapped, but her ears burned bright red. As much as she wanted to believe her reasoning, she knew she was lying to herself. How would Kate have reacted if she had found out that she killed or maimed her superior officer? It had been the first thing she thought of when she had the gun in her hand. "…just…shut up, okay?"

Merc backed off with an amused chuckle, spinning again to face his computer monitors, and she dropped to the couch with a final glare at the back of his head. He could be so damn annoying sometimes…then again, that's what usually pulled her from tight situations. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or just punch him in the face. However, she settled for gripping the material of her track pants until her fingers cramped. That seemed to take the edge off a little.

"Okay…" she breathed, once the sound of blood stopped throbbing in her skull. She rubbed at her temples, and things started to look less red around the edges. Her body was starting to cool down, and so was her temper. "So Miller was a dead end. He wants Kate out as much as I do, but he was willing to sell me out to do it. I don't think he's going to be much more help. Where does that leave us?"

"Back to Ropeburn," Merc said, spinning again. He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, wincing. "He's still meeting our mystery person tomorrow afternoon. Whoever they are, they know about this Icarus thing, and were tied pretty closely to Kate's setup. Who knows, could be the guy behind the whole thing."

At least there was that. Things weren't looking so dire after all. Why should she be so concerned about Miller when they had that lead? "Find anything on their meeting place while I was gone?"

Merc shrugged. "Not really. Some prints stored online that Drake managed to pull for me. You can take a look at 'em. Other than that, not much else we can do except, you know, be there."

Faith leaned over to reach into the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and cracking it open. After a few pulls, she felt a little better, like the cold water was actually dousing her anger from within. Tired, but better. She opened her mouth to ask Merc if Drake had found out anything else, but a yawn nearly dislocated her jaw.

"Ah, I know that look," Merc chuckled. "Don't even try to pull any of that 'I'm not tired' crap with me tonight."

"Yeah, well don't worry," Faith said dryly, capping her water and lying back on the couch. "I'm too tired to argue."

And tired she was. Nothing but motion the past two days. Not the carefree, casual routes of transport she was used to. Hard sprinting, fighting, and gunfire. She was in shape, but the constant exertion was slowly catching up.

Late afternoon was starting to settle into twilight. Faith cocked her arm, using it for a pillow and then shifted on the cushions, trying to find the imprint she usually curled into for sleep. Just from her run back to the lair, she could tell it was going to be another warm night. A good sleeping night, but only her body was tired; her mind was still buzzing. Miller's betrayal was on top, but worry for Kate was bubbling right underneath it. Call it sisterly intuition, but she knew that something was off. She'd seen it in Miller's eyes, and it didn't sit right with her.

"Merc?"

"Yeah?"

"Would it freak you out if I told you that I'm worried about this?"

He snorted, but the sound of his typing didn't cease. "Heh, I'd be freaked out if you said you _weren't_…but try not to, we can fix it. This whole thing is messed up, but we've got options. Get some rest, kiddo, another big day tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Reynolds Street wasn't just too far from Z Burfield International Shipping. It was a smaller cross street that cut through the Ryding Park District on the opposite end from where Ropeburn's office was. Based on what Merc dug up on the construction site, it was a secondary administrative building, just another business expanding into the already crowded city. Every month it seemed like the area that encompassed 'downtown' grew by a few more blocks.<p>

Faith had to slip through a maintenance hall on her way there at the end of her route, and when she emerged back on the rooftop of Ryding Park's low topped buildings she was only a few blocks away from the address Merc gave her. An orange hue had begun to creep into the sky as the afternoon started to change to evening. Buildings seemed quiet, but down on the streets, cars honked in traffic as evening rush hour kicked up. Despite the noise and activity on the streets, it was a quieter part of the day; in a few hours, night would fall and the city would wake back up as the night shift clocked in.

She heard the _thwock_ of rotors suddenly buzz into range. Instinctively she scanned the sky, immediately spotting the lone chopper's dark outline against the sky.

She stepped out of sight, and the helicopter passed lazily. It was moving slow, almost too slow to be a normal search pattern, and then she realized it was actually slowing down. A rough trajectory she plotted with her eyes pointed it straight to where she was headed.

"Hey Merc," she said to her earpiece, "there's a bird heading towards Ropeburn's meeting. Anything on the wire?"

"_Mmmm, nope,_" he replied. "_Nothing about any air patrols in Ryding Park. Some activity on the south end of the city, some kind of big traffic accident._ _You sure it's CPF, not CEC or something else_?"

The City Protection Force acronym made it pretty obvious. "Yeah, I'm sure. Doesn't look like it's running a patrol, though."

"_Think it's Ropeburn's partner?_"

She shrugged to no one. "Maybe. Can't think of any other reason why it would be here, and it doesn't seem to be in any hurry."

She didn't like it. If it was whoever was talking to Ropeburn on the phone, then it probably meant they were affiliated with the CPF. Those kinds of helicopters weren't exactly used as public limousines. The thought of someone that Kate trusted within the CPF being the one who set her up made her stomach twist. Then she remembered Miller yesterday, and the sensation turned to anger. Why should she even be surprised?

"_Sounds like that meeting's getting started, which means you need to get moving,_" Merc pointed out. "_There's no telling how long they're going to stick around, and you've got a couple of blocks to go._"

He was right. Faith glanced around, trying to pick up the Flow. The fastest way was straight ahead over a security fence, but she heard that telltale hum. More and more fences were doubling up with electricity in addition to the razor wire. She ended up having to detour around it through the next block, a bit of a long jump to the neighboring building, and then immediately back over to a rickety drain pipe that came up on the other side of the fence.

Like a hill or mountain slope, the buildings gradually rose ahead of her. This far into the Ryding Park District, she was getting closer to the downtown high-risers, where routes were impassible and filled with dead ends. The rest of the route to the address wasn't quite as smooth as she hoped. Faith found herself having to scale more than one AC unit to clear razor-wired fences or get a handhold to the next roof. It made moving slow, difficult, and exerting.

As she mounted another unit, she saw the tail of the helicopter ahead of her, sticking out from behind some clutter on the roof of the building ahead. Its rotors were just powering down. Faith slowed her pace down to a jog, hoping to catch site of whoever it was carrying, but there was too much in the way, and it wasn't likely the person Ropeburn was meeting was going to take a stroll around the roof.

She kept moving and finally reached the building. Despite the fact it was still being built, the outside was mostly complete, at least from what she could see. She dropped to a small balcony within an alcove that had a point of entry a little more than halfway up the building. True to her suspicions, only the outside looked finished; she was greeted with concrete walls, half finished drywall dividers, and piles of construction materials.

"Alright Merc, I'm in," she relayed as she moved further down a hall. It eventually opened up into a small room, equally as cluttered and half-finished. "This place is dead."

"_Ropeburn said things were quiet above street level, right? And if that bird is there, you know they're going to be on the roof, so head up_. _And try to be quiet about it. There's no telling _what_ they brought with 'em. Whole place could be staked out._"

She wrinkled her nose at the vagueness, but there wasn't much she could do. Merc had been able to dig up the blueprints for the building on the city network, and it was built like a maze. Half finished, it was a full out labyrinth – Merc's words, not hers. Given the half-finished state, and areas impassable due to missing floors, walls, or piles of materials, what she remembered from the plans were probably useless anyway.

There was a wide enough spot in the ceiling above her, so she built up some speed and got a few steps up the wall, then turned and jumped, grabbing the edge of the unfinished floor, and pulled herself up, already one floor closer to her goal. She immediately spotted the open ventilation duct and decided to slip inside. The building might have been half finished, but its core structure would be mostly done. That meant the vents would be installed, and would probably lead all the way through, from top to bottom.

For once, the ducts weren't filled with dust, but instead they were filled with a myriad of other things: wood and plaster filings mostly, and almost seemed worse than regular dust. She sneezed a couple of times, but tried to keep track of grates she passed in case she had to double back, mentally mapping the route. After making it up a ways, however, a grate snapped beneath her weight, spitting her out to the floor below rather unceremoniously. The only thing hurt was her dignity.

She had no idea where she was in the building, but the way ahead at the end of a hall looked like it was being formed into an office. The hall branched left, doubling back into a wide empty room she passed over in the vent. Instead of returning to the vent, she followed the hall, using a little speed to get up the wall and grab the exterior of the duct. From there, she was within jumping distance of some pipes that she could use to swing to another duct on the other side of the hall and continue to make her way up.

The Flow reached deeper into the building. If it wasn't for her anxiety to find Ropeburn and whoever he was meeting, Faith would have killed to have some time alone in the building. Every direction was a new way to explore, the Flow reaching around corners and up walls to new heights, always branching off into dozens of different ways to move. She had to cut the loss, instead just focusing on the routes that pointed up, or toward ways to move up.

Through another unfinished wall, scaling across a concrete surface, and then down a set of pipes. She slipped between a boxy outer vent to reach another hole that led upwards. Merc guided her as best he could based on her GPS tracker, but numerous times being led toward something that hadn't been installed yet made her trust her own gut more than what the plans had said.

After a few more minutes, she stepped through a doorway into a room. The structure and style, with the high ceiling and installed balconies, suggested that it might have been planned to become an atrium of sorts. It reminded her a little of Ropeburn's office, only instead of pristine carpet, tile, and running water, it was still bare concrete, dust, and construction material. It also wasn't quite as tall or big. She was on the balcony level, the main floor a short drop with no guard railing, and above her, stretching around in a curve was the frame of a skylight.

As soon as she cleared the doorway, she heard faint voices. Coming from above.

When she looked up, her heart sank, but even more than that, she felt a cold anger return. Through the unfinished skeletal skylight, she could see the roof. It was Miller, and he was with Ropeburn.

"Shiiiit," she swore in a hiss.

"_What?_" She'd forgotten she left her earpiece on open channel.

"Merc, it's Miller. He's talking to Ropeburn."

"_Shit, you serious?_"

She should have known better than to trust a Blue. They were crooked, all of them. Kate was an idiot for joining the CPF. Her own Lieutenant was conspiring against her. She thought Miller was someone she could trust, but now it turned out that he was just as willing to stab them in the back, like any of them would have done. He must have been involved in whatever Icarus was from the start.

"Yeah, and neither of them look happy," she relayed quietly, moving slowly in a crouch. Both of them were in plain sight a couple of floors up. They were too far away for her to make out what they were saying; she could hear Ropeburn snarling, the more animated of the two as he stabbed a finger in Miller's direction. "They look like they're arguing about something."

Whatever it was, she wasn't going to learn anything out of earshot. Kate's freedom was just a couple of floors above her. At the other end of the room was another door marked as roof access.

"Merc, I'm going up," she said quickly, then made for the door.

"_Faith, you nuts? You can't handle Ropeburn by yourself, and both of them are probably armed_!"

She ignored him, suddenly very aware of the sound of helicopter rotors. Unless there was another person coming to the meeting by air, that meant Miller was finished. She needed to get to him while he wasn't in a precinct full of armed cops in the middle downtown. Alone, she had a chance to catch him off guard. There was Ropeburn to deal with, but she still had surprise on her side.

The stairs rounded one last time, the roof access door a rectangle of blue-orange sky. The rotors were deafening now, and she could hear the sound of blowing air across the doorway. Her footsteps thundered up the steps and—

—a thick, meaty arm swung out and grabbed her by her tank top, yanking her forward out of the stairwell like she was nothing. The next thing she knew she was thrown on the ground and skidding on pavement, then something massive blotted out the sub. It was Ropeburn.

"You one of his little punks?" he snarled, bathing her in a hot blast of foul breath that smelled like meat. The sound of his voice was almost dwarfed by the helicopter, but it had already taken off and was about a block away.

Up close, Ropeburn's weathered face was thick and brutish, heavily lined, with bushy white eyebrows to match his hair. In a flash of late afternoon sun, she saw a sparkle on his teeth; gold-plated, all of them. "You can _both _go to hell!"

She had a second to struggle in his grip, but he yanked her by the top again, and he didn't stop there. Faith's vision was turned upside down as he picked her up by the waist of her cargo pants and tossed…no, _threw_ her over the ledge. Everything was a blur of primaries as she spun, and for a second she felt her stomach rise into her throat, and she thought that was it.

But instead of falling to the street some dozen-odd floors below, her fall was cut short by a rough impact that sent a wave of pain up her shoulder. After that, she lost track of what she bounced off of. There was a crash, the sound of splintering wood, more pain and clattering metal, and then she rolled to a stop on solid concrete. Things were still spinning and her head throbbed, but she could make out that she had fallen on a small alcove framed by a temporary fence, a scaffold, and building materials. Ropeburn had thrown her over the wrong side of the roof, but now he was coming down to finish the job.

Despite his weight and size, he hopped over the side, landing a few feet away with a grunt of effort. It was hard to believe given his age and appearance that he was so strong and had even a shred of any agility.

All the while, Merc was yammering in her ear. She put a hand to her earpiece, forgetting that it was already set to an open channel. "Merc…" she grunted, "…mind shutting up for a minute?"

Ropeburn rounded on her, kicking through a stack of wooden pallets like it was paper. He grinned wide in a sea of gold as he somehow bent at the waist to pick up a thick pipe that had been knocked loose from somewhere. Faith tried to hoist herself up, but made it to her hands and feet. She scuttled back crab-style on her butt to give herself some space, which he quickly closed.

He was big, but predictably slow. When he lunged and raised his arm to bring the pipe down on her skull, she leaped from the ground, snatching it with both hands. Even then, the momentum from the chambered blow and his own body was enormous, almost enough to send her back down, but she held on tightly.

Knocked off balance at the sudden halt to his half-charge, he grabbed the other end of the pipe to steady himself and pushed. It felt like a dump truck was falling on top of her. Faith stumbled back to the ground, but still held the pipe as Ropeburn leaned to put more weight on it. But by then, it was already too late. She struck out, using the pipe as leverage, snapping a kick forward aimed at his crotch. She hit a little higher than she had wanted, but it did the deed. Ropeburn let go and stumbled back, holding himself in pain, but he failed to realize how close he was to the edge of the roof.

Faith kicked to her feet, but he went over as his heel clipped the safety ledge. The last thing she saw was the black silhouette of his suit plunging past the ledge as he howled in shock, but - some miraculous stroke of luck - managed to grab the ledge as his arms went past. Gravity with a frame that size had to have been a bitch, because he slipped down further, barely managing to grab the drainage pipe before he plummeted.

Breathing hard, Faith stepped up to the ledge, stooping from the sudden shock of adrenaline and effort. Ropeburn kicked his legs, but he didn't exactly have the flexibility to get himself up, even if he did have the strength. She caught his gaze, suddenly wide and desperate, and her lip curled back in contempt.

"Better talk fast," she said calmly. "I can see your hands starting to sweat. You set up Kate Connors, didn't you?"

"That little cop?" Ropeburn's hands pawed at the pipe, continuously trying to get a more secure hold on the smooth metal and failing. "Yeah, I did."

"Had to be a cop, right?" He didn't answer, but she pressed harder, dropping to a knee on the ledge. "Why?"

"Hell if I know," he grunted. "I don't mess with politics."

"Were you the one who killed Pope?"

Ropeburn's hand slipped, and he would have fallen if not for a desperate grab. "No!" His face was drenched in sweat, and he was looking more and more frantic as the seconds went by. "I…I hired someone, some professional."

"Who?" she demanded.

"I don't know their name!" he shouted. Faith stayed silent, waiting for more, but he didn't giver her anything. The pipe creaked under his weight. She stood up. "Wait! I'm meeting 'em at New Eden tomorrow, in the atrium. Two pm! You'll recognize 'em!"

They had another lead to check out, but now for the big one: "Why were you with Miller?"

To her surprise, Ropeburn laughed, or at least as best he could under so much strain. It sounded more like a thick coughing fit. "You sure you want to know? Pull me up and I'll tell ya."

Faith bit her lip, but in the end, decided that he was better alive than dead, at least for now. He could just be playing her to help pull him up, but he knew how Miller was involved, and she needed that information. He wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer.

"Try anything, and you're road-kill," she warned.

Ropeburn rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure, now hurry up!"

She dropped back down to one knee, bracing herself hard as she reached down for the cuff of his suit. She wasn't sure how she was going to do it, but if she could get him up a little bit, then maybe—

_BOOM_

She heard the gunshot a nanosecond after she saw the spray of blood spray from Ropeburn's back. He jerked, his hands slipping from the pipe, and fell.


	15. Ropeburn Part 2

**Ropeburn (Part 2)**

The bullet didn't kill him immediately. Faith heard Ropeburn let out a strangled scream as he plummeted. Out of reflex, she jerked towards the origin of the sound, thankful that she didn't see him hit the pavement below, but wishing she couldn't hear the sound his body made when it hit.

"Shit, Merc, someone just took out Ropeburn!"

She spotted movement on a building down the alley she overlooked. A lone figure was just slipping up a fire escape, quickly disappearing through a door. The silhouette of a rifle was clear in their hands, but they were too far away to make out a face, and they were gone before she had time to blink. When she looked back down, she saw Ropeburn, sprawled in the middle of the alley…

"_What? How? What the hell's going on_?"

…with three CPF squad cars pulling up around him. It was like it had been timed perfectly, only she knew that it had. The meeting had been a setup, Ropeburn just a loose end.

"_Faith, wire just lit up. Blues inbound, get out of there, _now."

"Yeah, no shit!" she snapped. "They're already here; I'll fill you in later."

Blues exited the cars, but she was already sprinting back towards the unfinished atrium. Just before she did, she had gotten a good look at them. Only two were wearing the familiar blue uniform. The others, five in total, were wearing all black.

She was down a full floor lower now after Ropeburn threw her off the roof, but there was another door that she quickly kicked open. It led to a small maintenance hallway that connected to the roof stairwell and the atrium. This far ahead of the Blue, it wouldn't be hard to get away. As long as the chopper Miller was on didn't double back, she could avoid being tracked from the air. The cops on the ground needed time to reach her, and by then—

—_ding—_

—and the gutted, unfinished elevators suddenly opened, spilling half a dozen armored cops into the atrium.

"_Target spotted!_" one of them yelled.

There was no warning shot. They all turned and immediately opened fire, aiming to kill. Faith was only saved by the cover of a support column as she dashed behind it. The chattering rounds of automatic weapons clipped after her, followed by the resounding _boom_ of a pair of shotguns. The balcony ahead lead back to her initial point of entry, but to make it, she'd have to run the wall, jump, then sprint across the wide open platform. At this distance, there was no way they'd miss before she made it even halfway.

So instead, she did the next worse thing.

Just ahead of her was some kind of cable, probably part of a pulley system used in conjunction with the scaffolding. Faith was only behind the pillar for a second before she leaped back out, spring-boarding off a crate then grabbing the wire with her gloved hand, promptly turning it into a zip line.

The Blues, or soldiers, whoever the hell they were, didn't see it coming. She was just sailing overhead when they got their weapons up high enough, but when they fired, she was already halfway down, sailing straight for one of them. She hit feet first high on his chest, knocking him flat on his back as the rest of her light, albeit significant weight hit with the force of gravity. His eyes bulged in surprise from behind his balaclava in that tiny moment where time seemed to slow, before his head snapped back against the floor and knocked him unconscious. If it wasn't for the helmet he wore, she might have cracked his skull wide open.

The moment of hesitation the Blues had when she landed was the last bit of luck she needed. She had landed right in between them all, putting them in each other's line of fire and giving her time to roll off the cop and into the elevator they just exited. Well, almost into it. She came up a little bit short, and as she came out of her roll, they fired again. A few rounds clipped the doorframe, a shotgun blast tearing a hole in drywall along the frame.

There wasn't time to press a button and shut the doors. They would have been on her in an instant. But, gutted as the elevator was, there was a hole in the ceiling where the access panel should have been locked. Faith jumped and pulled herself up as another shotgun blast nipped at her Loggos.

And then the Flow simply stopped. There was nowhere else to go. Faith cursed, looking around wildly as footsteps quickly got closer. She had seconds, maybe.

Attached to the motor on top of the elevator was a warning sign that gave a clear and simple message: _Before releasing automatic brake, secure cables._

Faith drew back her leg and kicked the brake. It snapped under the force, and the ground beneath her simply fell away as the elevator dropped. The rectangle of light that was the elevator doorway shot past, a few dark figures shooting up as it plummeted down with her on top of it.

Her stomach shot into her neck as she fell over, shaken off her feet by the ride, landing on her back on the roof of the elevator. The sound of screeching metal hit her ears, deafening her as the elevator's redundant emergency brakes kicked in, sending plumes of hot sparks upward like fireworks. The shaking threatened to send her over the side down the rest of the dark shaft.

The fall ended with a horrible bang as the elevator car hit whatever safety mechanism at the bottom. It felt like getting kicked in the back, expelling all of her air, and threw her over the side to the bottom of the shaft.

Faith groaned loudly, gasping as she tried to get her breath. Her diaphragm refused to work, and for a few painful seconds, she couldn't breathe in anything. When she finally was able to, she took in a lungful of dust and what tasted like smoke and burning metal, then coughed hard.

"_Faith…Faith! You better not be dead…Answer me!_"

Merc's voice was borderline frantic.

"Ugh…I'm here…Merc," she groaned, then rolled over. Nothing felt broken. Just really beat up.

"_Damn it, Faith, I can't count how many years that just took off my life._" He sounded pissed, but relieved. "_GPS says you're below street level, where the hell are you?_"

She got up on her hands and knees, testing the soreness in her joints. As far as she could tell, there was none, which meant she could move. The rest of her hurt like hell. "Ow…Bottom of an elevator shaft."

She coughed again. The smoke and dust still hadn't cleared, but she could just make out the trashed box of the elevator car next to her and the cramped confines of the shaft. How she didn't sever her spine on some raised piece of metal or break half her bones was another mystery she'd never solve.

"_Don't even want to know how you got down there. Can you move? Blues got the place surrounded, and they're starting to move in_. _Something's weird with the wire, there was no word that Blues were already inside._"

Glancing up and rubbing the back of her neck, she saw a few dots of light casting beams down the shaft, not strong enough to penetrate the combination of darkness and smoke. The Blues, if they were Blues, from before were still about ten floors up…but she remembered the others just pulling up. They were closer than that.

"Don't have to tell me twice," she muttered, then, more loudly, "Any way out on the plans?"

"_Ventilation shaft should be right next to you. It leads to the lowest sub-basement and…gimme a minute…yeah, that shares a vent with the Ryding Park subway station._"

The smoke and dust was thick, but Faith moved as fast as she could before the Blues worked their way down, fighting through the aches in her muscles. She found the vent in the corner of the shaft and gave it a few kicks. It held fast, but she found a handhold, drew her legs back to her chest and kicked it in with a bang. The shaft beyond the grate dropped first at a slant, then straight down to one of the maintenance hallways in the subway system below.

"_Looks like the Ryding Park stop is closed due to renovations, something to do with the construction. Should be clear of civvies, but don't think that the Blues won't follow._" Merc's voice started to crackle. "_Signal—eeds to be—sted, gimme a se—_". He fell silent for a minute, and then her earpiece hissed and came in clear. "_Alright, all set._"

Per Merc's guidance, she moved up another level of the basement, using speed and a wall to get enough height to grab a catwalk above. Through another vent, she dropped into the subway stairwell proper. It was fenced and gated off, some scaffolding set up along the wall. The air smelled of paint and dust. It didn't take long for the sirens to drift into hearing range.

Faith climbed the scaffolding, using it to get over the station's closed gate. Beyond it stretched a blue and white sea of ceramic tiles that lined the floor and the walls, and nearly every surface was lined with some kind of advertisement. Bits of random clutter from the renovations still stuck in her way; stray building materials, a floor buffer, but it gradually cleared as she moved deeper into the station.

_Wainwright: your 5 a day in 1 pill!_

The sirens got quieter, but the long hallways that stretched through the station focused the sound of heavy footfalls. The Blues were already inside, and they were closing in fast from the station's other entrance. Shadows rounded the corner as she powered towards the ticket turnstiles.

"_Cut her off!_ _Close the entrance_!"

Faith vaulted the turnstiles just as the security gate ahead of her began to lower. As soon as her Loggos hit she dropped and slid. The smooth tiles felt nearly frictionless beneath her thigh as she slid beneath the edge of the gate just before it shut. Then she was back on her feet and moving. Yet another close call, but the gate would slow down the pursuing Blues, so it gave her a head start.

Ahead of her was the final stretch of the station before the escalators that led down to the boarding platform, lined by even more ads. She did a quick cat pass over the escalators, pitching herself headfirst with her hands down the wide metal banister between the motionless steps, then kicking her legs forward and sliding down the rest of the way in one smooth motion. The speed and momentum stayed with her as she landed at the bottom and maintained her sprint.

"_Far end of the platform there's a track accessway_," Merc urged. "_Get off the platforms, Blues have the place fricking surrounded._"

The Ryding Park station may have been closed, but it didn't mean that trains couldn't still pass through. One blew past the platform as she sprinted down it, sending a blast of air over her. Its lights vanished down the dark mouth of the tunnel. Just ahead, a little ways down the tunnel and over the tracks, she saw a ladder—

—and the decorative skylight above suddenly exploded into a million shards of glass as two black armored cops rappelled down. Even before they were halfway down, they trained their automatic weapons on her and fired. Faith redirected instantly, following the flow over a row of chairs to springboard up to the roof of a customer service hut.

With a yell, she leaped off towards one of them, still suspended by his rope, then shoved her legs out in front her. She got both feet on his chest in a vicious drop kick which disengaged his brake. They both fell the last few feet in a heap, but as the second one rounded on her, Faith spun on the ground, lashing out with her leg and catching him behind the knee. He went down hard, but raised his gun with one hand. Faith caught it, bracing his wrist against her leg, then pried it loose before reversing it and slamming the butt of the stock into the bridge of his nose.

There was scarcely enough time to get back on her feet before the Blues from the station made it down the escalator to the platform. Despite the clock on the tunnel walls indicating the next train was due in seconds, with lights glowing in the tunnel and getting brighter, Faith jumped onto the tracks and sprinted for the ladder. The operator of the train blared his horn as she crossed the tracks, but it blew past her harmlessly with another blast of air. By the time it cleared, she was up the ladder and through another ventilation shaft.

Navigating the access passages wasn't easy. The Flow petered out, the hallways simple, featureless concrete, but nonetheless, with Merc guiding her, they dropped her further into the tunnels ahead of the Blues.

"_Okay, you're on junction seventy-seven. Head north – for you, left – and keep going until you hit seventy-eight._"

Faith turned left and started down the tunnel, running alongside the tracks. It felt odd and exposed to be so far within the tunnels on foot. The walls played with sounds, pushing the deep rumbling of trains closer than they actually were. It would have been blatantly obvious if a train was coming her way, but she caught herself continuously glancing over her shoulder to check for lights coming from behind, as well as in front of her, not quite sure if she was running with or against the train route.

Junction seventy-eight was up ahead, its label stenciled onto the tunnel ceiling. "Alright Merc, I'm here. Where to next?"

"_Should be a catwalk above you with a door that leads to one of the AC facilities. From there, get through the vents, and that should lead to a small downtown substation. That's your exit._"

She stepped off the tracks, climbing an access ladder between tunnels that led to a separate catwalk. A train blew past, turning the tunnel into a myriad of sounds and lights; rumbling, grinding metal, and rushing wind, but just as quickly as it came, it vanished, leaving a ringing in her ears. There was a pipe or a pole suspended across the track, which she used to clear the gap to the catwalk.

The air conditioning facility that was designed to keep fresh air flowing through different areas of the tunnel was a little more than a large, empty room with some electronics, some circuit breakers, and large circular vents embedded in the wall. Over the mouth of each vent was a large, spinning blade that blocked access, but it didn't take much to find an emergency shut off switch. Once she clamored through, however, she hit a dead end.

The route that Merc led her through was supposed to lead to a stairwell, but it was blocked by a locked door. A _thick_ locked door. Faith kicked at it, but even after the fifth kick and throwing all of her weight down it, all she succeed was making her sore thigh sorer. Other than a similar door at the far end of the room, also locked, the only way out was through a single narrow track below her.

"Shit, Merc, I'm blocked," she relayed in frustration. "Is there any way around?"

"_Yeah_," he replied slowly, "_but it leads right back the way you came, right through Blue territory._"

Suddenly, she heard the sound of boots, but they were muffled. They were coming from the door on the other side of the room. The door suddenly banged on its hinges, but held firm. Then there was a crackling, and a red hot dot formed on the metal, then began to spark around the knob and deadbolt as it traced a line of glowing metal.

"Ahh, Merc, I don't mean to rush you, but they're starting to cut through the door!"

"_Goddammit! Nothing on the chatter about that! Shit, there_ is _no other way through. Double back through the vents!_"

Only as Faith turned around, the fans had started spinning again. Whatever she pressed that had disabled them hadn't been permanent, or whatever maintained their functionality decided to reactivate them. She was trapped, and if she jumped down onto the tracks, there would be no room to dodge or avoid a passing train. The walls were too narrow.

Desperately, she looked over the railing for another door, a vent, or anything that would put another wall between her and the Blues, but there was nothing. A set of lights appeared at the end of the tunnel as a train came around a bend. The torch the Blues were using to cut through the door was slowly completing its half-circle around the locking mechanisms. She had seconds, at most.

Faith gripped the railing tightly, an idea suddenly forming in her head as the train drew closer. It was insane, but then again, she made that crazy jump on the cranes yesterday afternoon. She survived the plummet down an elevator shaft. Her luck had held up so far. May as well push it a little further…

The torch stopped cutting, and the door was kicked open just as Faith swore loudly, then vaulted over the railing and onto the train as it passed beneath her.

The drag and impact knocked her flat on her face and put her into a spin. She pressed down with her feet and went spread eagle, trying to get as much friction to keep herself on top of the subway car. The roof was slightly curved, made of ridged metal, with nothing to hold on to.

It was by no means a smooth ride. Violent vibrations threatened to shake her loose, and the rushing wind, combined with little dips and turns in the track almost pulled her off at the speed it was going. As soon as she tried to look up, the air made her eyes tear, making it nearly impossible to see. There was darkness, a string of lights, and—

—Faith threw herself to the side as the low hanging _whatever_ shot by, nearly scraping her off the top of the car. Her momentum nearly took her off the car, and as soon as she locked herself down, another turn almost tipped her off again. The only thing she could do was dig her fingers and toes into the metal ridging and keep looking for something that might fly by and take her head off.

Mercifully, the train began to slow as it took another turn, and then slowed further as it began to approach a station. Before it could pull in entirely, Faith shoved off when there was enough room across the tunnel.

The change in speed made her fall again, but at least this time she managed to salvage a roll out of it. A little ways ahead of her, just off of the station platform was a door labeled _maintenance_. No one on the platform noticed her or paid her any mind as she slipped through it and into the hallway beyond.

Once inside the access hallway, Faith slumped against the wall, breathing hard. It felt like her blood had been replaced by pure adrenaline. Her legs shook, heart pounding, and everything seemed to swoon just a little bit. Hanging around wasn't a smart idea, but she needed to get her wits back.

Once she found her voice, she thumbed her earpiece. "Merc…Merc, you there?"

"_Jesus Christ, Faith, what the hell just happened? One minute you're motionless, the next you're ten city blocks away!_"

She found a grin. "Took a little ride on the subway."

"_Christ…I swear to God kid, one of these times they're going to be scraping you off something with a spatula._"

Again, he sounded pissed off, but relieved, and for once, his nagging was welcome.

"_Well, good news at least. The wire's finally settled down. Blues are pulling back and widening their search pattern, but you've got one hell of a head start. You're just south of Hampton right now; Drake's got Cel working some jobs there. Pick her up and head on home._"

The maintenance tunnel led to a back alley street level. The sky had turned a deeper shade of orange as the sun continued to sink lower. The sounds of evening rush hour returned, and a few pedestrians passed by the mouth of the alley, completely oblivious to what had just transpired right below their feet.

Faith sighed, then cracked her shoulder, looking for a fire escape or ladder she could use to get back to the rooftops. Things had taken another downward turn. Her prime suspect was dead, but another lead had appeared: the professional that Ropeburn hired and was supposed to meet tomorrow. Not a solution, but another lead.

She hoped that if she chased it fast enough, it would save Kate.


	16. New Eden Part 1

**New Eden (Part 1)**

Six am. Sunrise. The quietest time of the city.

The sun was just starting to climb up over the downtown skyscrapers, casting its glimmering orange light off of metal and glass. The gray period of pre-dawn had come and gone, and now the city's primaries were starting to bloom from the orange. The sound of traffic was faint and sparse, and from somewhere in the harbor, a ship sounded its lonely horn. There was something strangely peaceful about it.

Faith had just finished her early morning workout with Celeste: a rigorous run through the surrounding blocks around Merc's lair followed by a sparring session. Now, both streaked with sweat, they sat on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over the streets below as they watched the sun come up. Merc would probably be getting up soon. He had crashed hard after the fiasco that was the aftermath of Ropeburn's meeting, but they quietly snuck some coffee while he was still snoring, passed out on his couch with his head under a pillow. For now, it was just the two of them, just like old times.

It used to be a routine for them, though as of late, even before Pope's murder, they had become less and less of a routine. They were both usually early risers, so it was a quick workout and a coffee, maybe a shower in one of the city parks if they had time, and then Merc and Drake were usually up to start Tracking the daily runs. That morning could have been just a regular day; Celeste even had her bag slung over her shoulder like she already had a schedule planned out for the rest of the morning.

Faith had been meaning to make a reconnection with Celeste. It felt like they were drifting apart a little bit, and the whole situation with Kate wasn't making it easier to hang out with her.

"What are you thinking about?" Celeste asked quietly all of a sudden, breaking the silence between them.

Faith sighed. There was only one thing she _had_ been thinking about the past few days. "A murderer."

"Oh, yeah?" Celeste sounded intrigued.

"Yeah. Pope's. Ropeburn gave me a tip yesterday about a meeting at the New Eden Mall with whoever he hired to kill him. Going to pay a little visit this afternoon."

"You really think they're going to show?" Celeste asked dubiously after swallowing a mouthful of coffee. "I mean, it's not going to take long for word to spread that Ropeburn bit it. Hell, what if he's the one who wasted him yesterday? Covering up his tracks or, whatever."

Faith shrugged. "Really no other choice. If there's a chance I can get another lead, I'm sure as hell going to take it. Whoever Ropeburn hired was the one who set Kate up. I'll find them, and make them talk."

"Shit, Faith, why you doing this?" Celeste sighed, sounding frustrated. And worried. "It's not your fight. Why don't you just…I dunno, lay low or something?"

Faith gave a hollow chuckle after a sip of her coffee. "They have Kate, Cel. You really think I can just sit by and let her get convicted for a murder she didn't commit? If it's anyone's fight, it's mine."

Her response came off a little brisker than she intended, which made her feel a little guilty. She hadn't meant to snap. Celeste fell silent, and for a minute, the silence stretched between them.

Faith sighed again as she consulted the city skyline over the rim of her Styrofoam cup. The particular vista from Merc's lair was familiar; part of downtown straight ahead, with just a corner of the Financial District. The Fifth Ward stretched back behind them, still mostly dark but slowly lightening. Tucked back behind the high-risers was a corner of The Shard, but then again, it was visible from just about everywhere in the city. It all seemed so close, but it was easy to underestimate just how big it all was.

If it was so familiar, why did it feel _strange_?

"The city's different now," she commented softly. Maybe that's what she felt. That subtle shift in the way things worked, just like picking up changes in the Flow. "It's changing again…just like when I was with my folks."

"You never talked much about them," Celeste said. "How come?"

"Usually for a good reason," Faith said half-heartedly. Then again…"I can't stop thinking about them though, especially now. They thought this place was something worth protecting."

"What were they like?" Celeste asked, sounding curious and leaning a little closer to her.

Faith smiled, letting happier memories come back to her. "Dad was a smart guy, pretty well off, but a bit of a free thinker. Got him into trouble sometimes. Mom was beautiful; I don't think I've seen someone as elegant as she looked. When me and Kate were kids, Dad would always say that we were made of the best parts of her. Can't remember how they really met, but they were happy together. At least, for a while."

"What happened?"

"Mom and Dad were friends with Pope. They were wrapped up in just about every political movement that was going on at the time. Organized protests, lobbied the mayor, you name it. Hell, they even took me and Kate on marches sometimes. That was really most of our family time after a while. Between that and work, they didn't have time for much else. We were just kids at the time, but I never really understood what it all _meant_, or what it was for."

What was there to understand? Most of their time as a family was spent at demonstrations and political marches. Mom was over-worked, Dad was caught up in the politics. Between that and school, there wasn't much time for anything else. Kate had a bit of a social life, but she couldn't say the same about herself. She would be lying if she said she didn't have ill feelings toward her parents for that. But deep down, she knew they cared.

"Eventually, they joined _Libertas_," she continued. She wasn't sure why she was talking as much as she did. It just seemed to come out of her. "That's when it started to go downhill. They were more radical, more aggressive. Dad eventually spent more and more time with the movement than he did with Mom…or us. It seemed like every day I knew him less and less, but she stayed with him."

"Merc…said she died," Celeste said quietly.

Faith swallowed the lump in her throat, casting her eyes down. She was suddenly back on the streets, surrounded by panic and chaos. There was heat from fire, acidic smoke burning the inside of her nose. Her hand curled around nothing, but she distinctly remembered Kate's hand entwined in hers. It all lasted for only a second. The heat disappeared, replaced by cool air and the rising sun on her skin, the scent of the city returning.

"She was killed during the downtown riots," she said tightly, but kept her voice level. "The marches that went bad in November. CPF moved in hard and the crowd panicked. Some fought back. The crowd pressed in all around, and, well…"

"That's rough."

Faith looked away. Talking about it helped, but it was hard to bring up the past, even to people like Celeste and Merc, probably the last few people, along with Kate and the other Runners, that she could trust completely. She had gone through the stages of loss, regret, and grief, pushing it all down inside of her. It probably wasn't healthy, but there wasn't much else she could do about it. Every time she thought about it, it seemed unfair. Erika Connors wasn't the only one that died that day, but none of those other people were her Mom.

The death toll, for what started out as a peaceful march, had been shockingly high. No one saw it coming, and it took weeks for the political fallout to settle. Eventually, the city paved over it just like one of the many continuous construction projects, but the proverbial ashes still lingered to that day. That was it.

"After that we pretty much…fell apart." All she could offer was a shrug. "Dad never forgave himself for what happened, and I, well…I left home soon after that."

It had been raining that night. Storming even, which made sneaking out of her warm bed even harder. But it had been too much. Everything had reminded her of Mom. Especially Kate. At the same time, as she remembered being poised on the windowsill, ready to climb down the fire escape, but not wanting to leave Kate's side. She had been lying there asleep, completely peaceful. She had wanted to stay, but every time she looked at Kate, at her father, she saw Mom. So she left.

"…guess I never forgave him either," she finished. How could she?

"That's when you met Merc?"

Faith snorted hard into her cup. "He _caught _me, actually. Breaking into his place."

Celeste laughed. "You never told me that!"

"Not exactly my proudest moment, Cel."

The two of them shared another laugh after she retold the events of how Merc snuck up right behind her, then knocked her flat on her ass when she tried to attack him. Cel's laugh sounded a little forced, but Faith realized she was probably trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of her folks. She was grateful.

"So how did you end up working for him?" she asked.

"He offered to train me as a Runner." She shrugged. "Given what I was into at the time, it seemed like a good way off the streets, so I took it. Not really else much to say, really."

"Ballsy. If it had been me, I would have told him to piss off. Good thing I met Drake first..." Celeste grinned, but it slowly faded. She turned her steel-blue gaze on her, features hardening in seriousness. "Look, Faith, you're my best friend. I know you've got a mean streak, but what you're doing now is the fastest way to get yourself killed."

Was that a note of pleading she detected? If there was anyone who she thought would understand her situation it would be Celeste. She was as stubborn as Faith herself, a bit on the reckless side too. When she said something, she usually meant it. Something about that azure gaze carried a lot of weight, and with her narrow face and the sleek aerodynamic curve of her blonde quiff, it seemed to tunnel right through you.

But Faith remained adamant. "They have my sister, Cel," she repeated. If it was any other situation, she might have agreed with her. "They got her involved, and I _need_ to clear her name. I owe her that much."

_And so much more_, she added silently.

"And what about when this all goes to hell? You really just want to throw your life away like that?"

Faith chuckled and could only shrug. "I'll survive. That's what we do."

"Survival is overrated," Celeste scoffed with a roll of her eyes. She drained her cup, then tossed it over the ledge as she stood up. "You need to live a little, too."

Faith nodded her head in agreement, then finished her coffee. "Hey, want to come with me this afternoon? Could use the back-up."

Celeste sighed, but offered a small smirk. "Can't. As much as I'd like to see you dodge bullets, Drake's got me busy all afternoon. Says I've been slacking," she finished with another roll of her eyes. "Look, I gotta go. Long run today."

"It's fine," Faith smiled back. "Someone's bound to start shooting at me soon. Get going."

Celeste adjusted the strap on her bag, then rolled her arm around and headed towards the neighboring edge of the rooftop. Before she headed out, she turned back. "Faith…take care of yourself, okay?"

Faith smiled and nodded, and with that, Celeste turned and hopped over the edge of the roof. The sound of her footsteps disappeared quickly. A pang of guilt washed over her. Celeste was her friend, and how much was she making her worry? Merc too? And the others? She was more than willing to sacrifice bodily harm for Kate, but she couldn't protect the feelings of her friends if she died. But there wasn't anything she could do, unless she wanted Kate to pay dearly for a crime she didn't commit.

She sighed again, then tossed her cup over the edge and stood up. The sun was a little higher now, thought the light was still orange over the city. Somewhere in that same city was the person that killed Pope and framed Kate. If she was lucky, she'd find them today, and walk away from the encounter alive.

Merc was just getting up when she returned to the lair, draining the rest of the pot of coffee into a large mug for himself.

"You know, it makes me a little uncomfortable when you get into my coffee stash," he yawned, scratching the back of his neck, "and do it while I'm sleeping."

"And we weren't even trying to be quiet," she teased.

"Celeste already bug out? Heard you guys talking outside."

"Yeah, Drake's got her tied up all day. Looks like I'm going solo this afternoon."

"Well, we still have clients who need stuff moved, so someone's gotta hold down the routes." He moved to his desk, knocking the screens off idle with a tap of a button. "Blue traffic is up enough as is, but now we've got these damn commandos to worry about. If this keeps up, we won't even be able to move _anything_."

Faith sat quietly while Merc went through his usually morning ritual. It mostly involved slurping coffee while checking messages from Drake, then the GPS grid for active Runners that Drake had working earlier that morning. Faith spied Celeste's receiver on one of the screens as she moved further into the city. The board was usually lit with the others, but save for only one or two, it was mostly dark.

"Ugh," Merc grumped, checking a few news feeds, "not a good day to be doing this crap. Callaghan's doing a campaign drive-about through downtown all afternoon. Gonna be a lot of Blues watching a lot of rooftops. Most downtown businesses are even closed, including New Eden."

"Probably why Ropeburn and his contact picked today," Faith suggested. "If the mall's going to be closed, they'd be able to meet in private."

"Yeah," Merc agreed, "but the Blues are going to be looking for a Runner, which means you."

"Maybe…or maybe they'll be too busy focused on protecting Callaghan to notice me."

Merc snorted. "Glad one of us is an optimist."


	17. Icarus

**Icarus**

Kate's trial had been scheduled for later that evening. For the first time, Miller felt the weight of it starting to bear down on him. They were running out of time. Every lead they pursued was a dead end, and their last suspect was suddenly gunned down in broad daylight. There was nothing to exonerate Kate, and all the evidence from Pope's murder remained pointed at her. Whoever was setting her up was always one step ahead, ready to wipe the next piece of evidence clean.

With the lack of developments on the case, Miller wondered if homicide was even _trying_ to solve it anymore. There wasn't much else he could do. Captain Briggs' orders remained. On any other case, he would have trusted his judgment.

Miller was interrupted from the usual monotony of precinct paperwork as Moreno burst in through his office door, her eyes wide. Bradley was close on her heels. "Boss, Burfield was—"

"Shot and killed yesterday evening," he interrupted, his voice tight. He was wondering when the rest of the precinct would find out. "I know. It trickled down from homicide earlier this morning. You two, come in and sit down. We need to talk. Close the door."

They did as he asked. Bradley settled into one of the chairs, but Moreno remained standing, pacing back and forth a few steps near the doorway. She was jittery. Kate's imminent trial was hitting her just as hard as it was him. Even Bradley fidgeted in the chair nervously. Seeing how nervous his top tier subordinates were wasn't doing much to ease his own nerves.

"What happened?" Moreno asked, then bit down on one of her nails, but immediately removed it. "And why didn't you tell us right away?"

He leaned back and sighed, recalling what happened that day. "I was able to track Burfield down by asking around his headquarters. Word had gotten around that he was going to be offsite that afternoon, trickled down through memos and such…His leave wasn't official, but a few of his workers had overheard something about him going to inspect the new site on Reynolds."

He dodged the question as to why he didn't share the knowledge with them, but the truth was there wasn't anything any of them could do about it. Moreno didn't seem to care that he ignored her. "And you didn't think to bring backup with you?" she demanded.

"The plan wasn't to tip him off by showing up with uniformed officers, Moreno," he said sternly. The look on her face said she realized the tone she had snapped in, and she winced. "Besides, I may have caught him off guard, but he was still smart. He knew that I couldn't search anything without a warrant, and he refused to talk to me without his lawyer present. Having you two with me wouldn't have accomplished anything, but I appreciate the concern."

"Anything special about the place on Reynolds?" Bradley asked. "Maybe something to do with the case or murder?"

Miller shook his head. "No, and I checked it with CC zoning; nothing illegal about the construction, and forensics did a clean sweep of the building. There was nothing out of the ordinary." He didn't have to add that most of the forensic teams that examined the scene now consisted of PK 'experts'. "Burfield claimed he was simply inspecting the progress of the building."

"You think he wasn't?" 

"He seemed to be waiting for someone. That much I'm certain on. I pressed him, but he threatened to pursue legal activity if I didn't leave. So I did. That would have been a little after four in the afternoon."

"Christ, he was shot right after that," Moreno breathed. "_Idiota loco_, what if that bullet was intended for you?"

"If that was the case, then Burfield wouldn't have been targeted," he replied dismissively. Then he got to the part that had been bothering him. "There was another suspect at the scene. The same one that was at Pope's office when he was shot. PK gave chase, fired a few rounds, but she got away."

Moreno and Bradley looked at each other. "She? There was another suspect?" Bradley asked.

"Homicide and PK have been keeping it under wraps. There was an Asian woman with unique tattoos fleeing Pope's office. This same person was seen during the time Burfield was killed by the officers on the scene."

Faith, of course. But he didn't get it. Why would she go out of her trouble to kill Burfield? She had made it clear to him that she was investigating him herself, but why kill a potential suspect that could provide a confession to clear Kate? She didn't seem willing to go so far as murder. _Capable_, maybe, but not willing.

"If there's another suspect, then maybe that's who killed Pope," said Moreno, stepping forward anxiously. "Ropeburn was shot, and then he was thrown off a roof. They seriously going to prosecute her when they know this?"

"There's not enough evidence to convince a jury," Miller said, raising a hand to quiet her. "Bradley was able to show me the feed from Pope's office. There was nothing, and the surveillance system wasn't installed yet in the building on Reynolds Street. This person is a ghost. Half of people who claimed to have seen her and given chase were PK enforcers anyway…and they seem to be doing everything they can to hinder this case…"

Miller glanced passed his two subordinates, through the glass paneling on his office door that looked into the operations floor. Kruger was strolling past the low cubicles, busying himself with the coffee maker. With much of the precinct on duty for Callaghan's campaign drive, PK staff dominated the building. He wondered if this was what it was going to look like in a couple of months, after this case had been shut.

Maybe Moreno was wrong. He couldn't have been the target yesterday; it had to have been Burfield all along. PK, or whoever was using PK, wouldn't be able to get away with killing a CPF lieutenant, let alone the superior of a murder suspect without raising hell. But frame him? Make him look like a loose vigilante by taking out Burfield while he was seeing him off the record? Any credibility he had for Kate would have been thrown out the door.

But it didn't go quite as planned. He left before the shooter could take the shot…and Faith just happened to be on the scene, following up on her own investigation. So kill Burfield, Faith takes the blame…

_…and PK will have CPF chasing a suspect they'll never find_, Miller realized. Long enough for Kate to be incriminated. The case was shaky against her, but with a good enough prosecution, and if this was an inside job…

And then what? That was the part that was making him even more worried. Was this really leading towards a full PK integration? Or worse, a complete takeover? He just couldn't see how Kate factored into all of this, or why she needed to be framed.

"Boss?" Moreno asked, jarring him from his thoughts. He'd been staring past them for a while, and now both of them were intently watching him.

This was endgame. He needed answers, and for that, he needed to poke a sleeping bulldog. Alone. It was getting too dangerous for Moreno and Bradley.

"Moreno, Bradley, I want you to step back from this," he ordered.

"Step back?"

"Miller, what—"

"No arguments," he interrupted. "If this thing is internal, two uniforms would be easier to rub out than an officer, and if you two keep poking around, that's exactly what might happen. Kate's trial is tonight, there's nothing more you can do. You need to stand down, play dumb."

Moreno's cheeks burned deeper under her tan skin, and she bit her lower lip. Not a shy, thoughtful nibble; her entire upper row clamped down. Hard. She wasn't one to simply sit by and do nothing. Half of the write-ups he had to file on her were about ignoring orders. Bradley only pursed his lips tightly, but as her partner, he wasn't much better.

"Well?" he asked tightly. "I want to hear it from both of you."

Finally, Moreno sighed hard. "…_Dios_. Fine."

"Yeah, sure," Bradley muttered.

Miller nodded. "Good. I'll let you know if anything changes, but for right now, for Kate's sake, I need to be the one to handle this."

He stood up and moved to the door, opening it to usher them out. He couldn't say that he liked having to put them off. Both of them looked dejected. Bradley shuffled out, but Moreno pushed past him, storming off towards the locker room. He hoped neither of them would do something stupid. It was bad enough that Kate was the one in the center of all of this, but if it had been either of them instead, nothing would have changed. He wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with losing them if something turned drastic at the last second.

Once they were gone, he scanned the operations floor again. He saw Kruger still hovering around the coffee maker, refilling his cup as he chatted with a hulking enforcer. A plan formed in his head. It wasn't much past brute force. There wasn't time for anything else. He needed results, and he needed them now. It had saved Kate once, maybe it would save her again, even if it meant he had to play a dangerous game. He couldn't wait to go through proper channels or for an opening.

The enforcer walked off, and Miller left his office, walking briskly across the ops floor. Kruger turned at the noise of his approach in mid sip of his cup, then swallowed and offered a smirk. "Lieutenant Miller. Always a pleasure. I'd shake your hand, but I'd be worried that you might just punch me instead."

He ignored the shot. "Icarus: what is it?" Mentioning it seemed to spook him last time.

Kruger chuckled, but maintained his composure. "Now why would I know anything about that?"

"Because Pope knew about it, then he wound up dead. Whatever it is, it's tied to Connors' case. You didn't seem too keen on me bringing it up when you were beating Connors in an interrogation room, so I think you know plenty."

Kruger looked thoughtful for a moment, and then the smirk returned. "You know Miller, I don't see why I should hide it anymore, since you clearly won't drop the issue. And besides, it's not like it's even being investigated anymore."

Miller's heart skipped a beat, briefly wondering if it really had been that simple, but Kruger continued.

"Project Icarus _was_ involved in this case to a very minimal extent. I wouldn't call it a secret. Do you think every zoning or building project that Callaghan Construction puts out is a secret?" Kruger paused for effect, but Miller didn't answer. "Of course it's not. Icarus is a city project still in development. Most of the city officials, including Robert Pope, were aware of its existence, even if the public wasn't yet. It was investigated accordingly when it came up, it was found to be irrelevant, and it's been put to rest."

"I heard that Travis Burfield also mentioned it," Miller said casually. Faith had said she overheard him talking about it when she was investigating him. "Like Pope, he ended up shot and dead, but he wasn't a city official. Sounds like a connection to me."

"He was, however, in charge of Pope's security, and likely attended meetings and saw other confidential city business," Kruger argued dismissively, sipping his coffee. "As far as his untimely death, I don't have answers for you. The likely suspect is the tattooed Asian woman, and may I ask how well CPF is handling that?"

It was a subtle shift in the conversation. Miller had performed and witnessed enough interrogation of a variety of suspects to pick it up right away. Kruger never answered his question, and was instead trying to lead him back into the quagmire that the case was becoming, playing on his temper and pride by trying to throw the conversation back in his face. Had he been a rookie, he might have walked right into it.

"You didn't answer my question," he reminded him. "If Icarus is so ordinary, how come it doesn't come up in any of the city planning records? Unless it's something you don't want the public seeing?"

If that bothered Kruger, he didn't show it. Whatever leverage of surprise he had on him during Kate's interrogation had apparently been a one time thing. "I'm not at liberty to discuss city business, Lieutenant. That would betray my friendship with Mayor Callaghan." Instead of smirking, he smiled. It didn't look much better on him. "What I _can_ say is that it is a solution."

Miller's eyes narrowed. "A solution to what?"

"A long-standing problem in the city. One that my company and I were approached to solve personally." He took another pull from his mug. "I wouldn't be worried about Icarus, Miller. Instead, I'd be more worried about the CPF."

"Is that a threat?"

"A warning," he clarified. "Remember what I said. The chinks are starting to show, and we're willing to fill them."

"Willing enough to murder?"

Kruger's smile widened and he chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I would swear you're accusing me of something, Lieutenant. I can understand if you're upset that your subordinate is the prime suspect in this case, but try not to take it personally."

"Personally?" Miller laughed. "If you honestly think that this is a personal matter, Mr. Kruger, you're sorely mistaken. I'm a sworn officer of this city. There was a murder in my city, and I intend to find out who did it. That's how the justice system works, though evidently, they don't grill that into your private security thugs." He offered his own smirk to Kruger. "That one of my subordinates is a suspect, well, that's just incentive. I'm sure you would do the same for your enforcers."

Kruger just shrugged, and that was his only reply. Miller really wasn't sure how to interpret it. But the truth of the matter was that it _was_ personal; Kate was a trusted ally and friend. If she was framed for a murder she didn't commit, he would fight tooth and nail to get her back. Kruger didn't need to know that though. Let him think he was still going to play like a cop.

Kruger drew up his shoulders and straightened. "An enlightening conversation as always, but if you'll excuse me, Lieutenant, I have things to review. And isn't CPF handling Mayor Callaghan's campaign security?" he smirked again. "I would imagine that you would be busier on a day like this. It would be a shame for another city official to die under the CPF's watch."

With that, he walked away, leaving Miller to glare at his retreating back before shuffling to his office. There had to be more to Icarus then he was letting on. Pope had been taking notes on it when he died, and whatever it was it was important enough to struggle, to tear out a page in his diary before he was executed. Travis Burfield was in on it, but he was played and paid the consequences. Faith knew about it, and now she was being hunted as a murder suspect. It couldn't be another project, or city motion. Not with that kind of effect.

The only problem was that he didn't know what Icarus really _was_, and that had to be the last piece of the puzzle. Kruger was confident enough to reveal that it existed, but not its purpose. Whatever it was, it could be big enough for PK to cover up, or even perform, a murder.

Once inside his office, he took out a bottle of whiskey from his desk and poured himself a stiff drink. With how busy and demanding the city was, liquor was almost a necessity for officers at times. He had just put himself back onto PK's radar by pushing the subject, and he still didn't have a plan.

Maybe they would try something stupid and try to kill him.


	18. New Eden Part 2

**New Eden (Part 2)**

Getting to the New Eden Mall turned out to be a lot harder than Faith realized. Ropeburn was supposed to meet the professional killer at two in the afternoon, but her intent was to get there early and see if she could spot him out entering the mall. However, even after leaving Merc's a little after seven in the morning, it was already after nine by the time she reached downtown. Not too bad, considering that their normal routes thinned closer to downtown, but she was losing time to all the detours from Callaghan's campaign drive.

It seemed like it was getting worse and worse towards the inner city. Every so often she had to stop her run to duck out of sight from a patrolling helicopter. The roadblocks weren't too much of an issue, but she gave them a wide berth anyway. If something spooked the Blues while Callaghan was exposed, the entire city would probably light up.

She kicked through a stairwell access door, stepping onto a small balcony on the lower floors of a high-riser. At least the mall was in sight. Even though it had opened last month, New Eden's grand opening was still being celebrated. The complex itself was massive, consisting of close to five hundred stores with two movie theaters, and spanned three city blocks, one block of which was a parking structure. A big place, but the whole thing was closed down, so wouldn't be hard to spot Ropeburn's professional.

Blue light flashed silently one block below her. Faith sighed and fingered her earpiece. "Merc, I don't have time for this. I just hit another roadblock."

"_If you want to circle around, you're going to have to double back,_" he said grimly. "_Not really much there that will get you to the mall._"

She sighed again. That would shoot another half hour, at least, and she was already feeling the burn from the run. By the time she got to the mall, she'd be spent. "Anything faster?"

"_Nothing above ground level._"

"Well, what about _at_ ground level?" she asked impatiently.

"_Faith, you really think you're going to make it five steps with all the Blue traffic?_" When she didn't reply, he grunted in irritation. "_Gimme a sec…okay, this might actually work. If you can get down to the alley below you, that should give you some cover. Wire's humming about First Avenue, and that's just a block to your north._"

"Okay, then what?"

"_See the tracks?_" Faith scanned the area below her and a ways beyond, seeing the train tracks as a subway car chugged past. "_Prints show some piping up to the rail overpass between sections three and four. Once you're there, I'll patch you in the rest._"

She glanced around, at first not really seeing any way to safely take the ten story drop to the alley below, but then she saw a drainage pipe and traced it down. It led to another small balcony, which was within reach of another pipe that terminated just a few feet above the alley. The first pipe was on the wall across from her, so with a running jump, she cleared the gap and began to climb down. Seconds later, she touched down on pavement.

Faith, and most of the other Runners for that matter, had grown unaccustomed to being on street level for extended periods of time. The gridded layout was boring, most paths were horizontal, and of course, CPF and the surveillance network were far more prominent. There were ways around it, like the flood control canals or the sewers, but you had to be in the right area. For Faith personally, the worst part was the sense of the buildings. They rose up all around, like the fingers of a hand right before they clenched down into a fist. It was suffocating; not being shot at by pursuing cops and soldiers only brought it to her attention further.

But she shook the sensation off and moved down the alley. The rail overpass lay dead ahead across the street. The roadblocks made the street empty, so Faith carefully peeked around the wall of the alley to make sure the way was void of Blues. She could see the flashing lights, but the roadblock itself was around the corner, out of sight, so she moved out from cover.

She quickly cleared the street, and then scaled the short chain-link fence that ran some distance along the track. Sure enough, just like Merc said, there was some piping or reinforced bars that ran vertically along the overpass support column. They were a little harder to climb than what she was used to, but she made it up to the underside of the overpass. The city train system was electric, so there was a maintenance walkway she now stood on that spanned the length of the underside of the track to ensure quick access in the event of a malfunction.

"_Okay, head south. You should see a set of stairs that will take you up to the tracks_."

"Seriously? After yesterday?"

"_Hey, who's the one with the map_?"

He was right, of course, so she started moving. The walkway was designed to span around the concrete columns, and while it was a little exposed, the looming overpass also provided a little cover. While not completely in sight of the roadblock down below, she was a little too close for comfort. If someone decided to look up, they'd probably see her legs moving along the walkway.

Above her, a dull rattle turned into a loud roar as a train passed overhead. Faith briefly wondered if there was going to be enough room to navigate around a train if one sped by while she was on the tracks. Yesterday's run through the subway tunnel had left a bad taste in her mouth, but Merc wouldn't throw her into a dead end with no escape route. At least not intentionally…

Merc was relaying her next steps when the stairs came into view. "_It's going to be a short run down the tracks. There should be another access stairway, and you can take that down to the alley across the street. You can get back up to the rooftops from there._"

Another train blew past as she got up onto the tracks. Remembering the subway tunnel, she looked in both directions before jumping onto them, then started moving. Even from where she hopped onto the tracks, she could see the stairs he was talking about. Alongside it though, there was a high tension wire. Faith didn't know exactly what it was for, but she jumped and grabbed it, using it to slide from the overpass to a small balcony above the alley.

"See, that wasn't so bad," she said as she kicked through a door into a hallway that would lead further down the alley.

"_Yeah, well you wouldn't be saying that if the Blues saw you_," Merc gruffed. "_But keep moving, still plenty of activity in your area that you don't want to stir up. You're looking for an elevator in the next building over._"

She cut through another hallway, then another alley, and then a third hallway before Merc said she found the right building. The elevator took her back to the rooftops. While it was more familiar territory than the streets, now that she was fully into downtown, the route was turning pretty difficult. From what she knew, neither Merc nor Drake liked to plan runs this far into the city unless it was something big and important. The buildings were tall and spaced far apart; falls were lethal, crippling if you were lucky, and you always had a few stories to think about what it will feel like to hit the ground. Routes and paths could suddenly terminate with no warning, and you'd have to back track to find another way around, if there eve was one.

The route ahead of her wasn't all that much better. She had to continuously trace the Flow to find a decent path. Merc helped out as best he could, but there was no way around it. She worked her way from the elevator to the next roof, having to clear a few security fences before she could get enough momentum to make the jump to it. The next one didn't offer much more; she burned almost five minutes trying to find a way up an adjacent building three stories higher than the roof she was on.

As she slowly made her way across the roofs, the building colors changed. First blue, then yellow, then back to blue, then some other color. Always a pure, homogenous primary. No mixes or blended hues, save for the ads that were plastered on their sides or mounted on billboards.

She caught a lucky break when an outer ventilation system spanned right to the next rooftop she needed to be on, and from there a high-tension wire ran from to the next.

"_Alright, doing good kiddo. Mall's just a few blocks ahead._" Merc guided her into a building and down a short hallway. "_Right now you're in some cheap housing complexes; should be an elevator that takes you a few floors up._"

The elevator was out of service, so she had to pry open the doors. Fortunately, she could see a series of pipes that spanned the length of the shaft. Probably plumbing or heating, she figured as she hopped into the shaft and started climbing. Getting _out_ of the shaft was a little trickier once she reached the top, but she managed to pry open the doors from the inside. An orange hallway greeted her from out of the darkness, along with the scent of fresh paint. It looked like some renovations were being done, with various bits of clutter and paint cans lying around with a door propped open at the end of the hall. It led to an outside stairwell.

The stairwell looked over a balcony across the alley, so she jumped over, rolling as she landed to absorb the shock of the fall. The drainage pipes that ran up the side of the building took her to the roof.

The New Eden Mall drew closer and closer. She could see the tower above its main entrance between the last few buildings, plastered with digital ads and news scrollers. The mall was one of the city's commercial and transit hubs, so that meant it was full of ads. Normally, the roads below would be packed with in and out traffic, not to mention people on the sidewalks, but not today. The mall was closed, and the CPF roadblocks were wreaking havoc on the city's normal patterns.

_Finis Coronant Opus Callaghan_. An orange billboard, hanging vertically. Whatever the hell that meant. It was another of Callaghan's campaign ads she passed as she worked her way around one last building.

After one last zip line from a crane's support wire, she at last stepped onto the roof of the mall. Like most buildings, it had pretty tight security complete with razor-wire fencing, but she quickly hopped it and kicked through an access door, stepping into an office hallway. Even when it was closed, the ambient climate control was still running, cooling the drops of sweat that beaded on her skin and soaked into her track top. She was feeling the burn from the run, but at least she wasn't exhausted.

Merc guided her through the white, featureless hallway. It reminded her of Pope's office, only instead of lime-green, it was pale white and black. The city wasn't too original when it came to the interior architecture of most buildings. The stairwell doors were locked, so she found the nearest elevator. Most of the floors were locked off except for the ground level, to an unfinished store or office area on the fringe of the entry plaza.

New Eden was finished and open, but still bore signs of its recent opening, and like the room behind her, was still being touched up in some areas. But that didn't stop the city from opening it so the population could spend their money. Faith stepped through the door and into the main plaza. It spanned well over fifty yards ahead of her, paved in white tile. Directly ahead was the main entrance to the indoor stores, bearing the mall's logo, a sleek upper-case 'N' followed by a lower-case 'E'. The stores and kiosks that rimmed the plaza were closed and gated. It was a good place to disappear among the crowd and enjoy some luxuries, maybe burn some of their hard-earned cash.

She had been inside a few times, so she knew the general layout, even if it seemed so much different with no people, and Merc chimed in where appropriate. Her goal was the atrium, the main hub that branched into the different wings of the mall, and it was more or less smack-dab in the center of the entire complex.

"_Front doors are gonna be locked, obviously. Hang a left, just off the plaza. Should be a small alcove that has a vent._"

She followed Merc's advice, finding a small inlet in the plaza. It was a small loading bay, complete with shuttered doors for moving things in and out of the plaza, usually entertainment-related venues. True to his word, she spotted a vent just out of reach and built up some speed, then kicked off the wall and climbed into it.

The vent led a little further in, but not much. Thick grating blocked her from crawling through further, so she had to kick out one of the grates beneath her, landing in the loading docks themselves. Fortunately, there was a door that led to the maintenance hallways, and she exited just inside the main entrance.

The entrance wing was painted a deep yellow. She knew the atrium was almost straight ahead, but she moved slowly, sticking to the wall for cover. Maybe it was just the lack of people, and that every store was locked and covered with a security gate, but she felt exposed. This was a secret meeting she was supposed to be crashing; she had one chance, and if Ropeburn's contact spotted her, she would lose the element of surprise, so slow and steady it was.

Another thing that was bugging her was the quiet. New Eden was _always _noisy. People talking, laughing, the sound of children, music over the speakers. Then there were the smells from the vendors and food court. The whole place was designed to distract you, but Faith found it _more_ distracting that it was almost silent. Especially as she passed Slant, a sporting goods store that stocked Loggos and other Raposa-brand track gear she liked. It was a popular place, and seeing it quieter than a grave seemed to set off some kind of alarm in her.

Then, she thought she heard movement, like footsteps on the floor. She moved forward, masking the sound of her own feet with light steps. There was a bend in the corridor ahead, so she slid up to the corner and peeked around.

"Merc, I've got movement," she whispered.

"_Ropeburn's contact_?"

"Dunno."

There, she could actually see it: a pair of legs just disappearing around the opposite corner, moving towards the atrium in a light jog. Merc knew when to shut up and let her focus, so there was nothing from her earpiece except the nearly silent hiss of static. Faith followed, glancing around the next corner into the atrium.

The circular atrium wasn't quite as large as the entry plaza. It spanned all five floors of the mall, rimmed with balconies that led off into the other wings, and was topped with a domed skylight. A complex sculpture or chandelier hung from it, as well as various banners and ads, with two glass elevators running up opposite sides of the area.

She didn't get a good look at him. All she saw was his back before he disappeared behind one of the elevators. He was wearing what looked like a chalk-white uniform of some kind and what could have been a black vest. There wasn't enough time to catch a glimpse of his face. She swallowed hard, reminding herself this was a professional killer she was tailing. No room for screw-ups. At the very best, her lead would get away.

He didn't emerge from the other side of the elevator. Faith waited a few more seconds, then stepped out into the atrium, moving low, fast, and quiet. She had the drop on him; she could get up right behind him and drop him before he could react, and then he would tell her everything.

And then everything went to hell.


	19. New Eden Part 3

**New Eden (Part 3)**

It all happened so suddenly that Faith only survived through quick reflexes and a lot of luck.

As she cut across the open atrium floor, they stood up from hiding. She recognized the black armor and assault rifles: the mercenaries that always seemed to pop up wherever cops did, that always seemed to be right in step with her. There were half a dozen, all of them on the level above on either side of the escalators just ahead of her. They opened fire simultaneously.

Faith was already reacting when the gunfire registered. If she didn't consciously think it, then her body sensed the ambush on some level and did the motions for her.

She dove to the side, little to no technique in her form, face first, arms outstretched. She hit the ground with enough momentum to slide on her gut as the bullets chipped and shattered the tile floor, sending hot ceramic onto her skin. The urge to curl up into a ball and become a smaller target was frantically overpowering, but that would sap her speed. She stayed prone, clawing at the floor the last couple of inches until she slipped behind the elevator. When she tucked in her legs behind cover, she saw the bullet hole through the tied-off cuff of her pants.

The path she came from was wide open, a killing floor that would leave her an easy target for the gunners. Merc was saying something in her ear, but she could barely make out more than a couple of words over the continuous gunfire, let alone the sound of her pounding heart. The adrenaline spike was almost enough to make her dizzy.

That left the elevator she was hunkered behind the only way out. Not the safest escape, but she reached up and slapped the call button, feeling that the risk was better than waiting for the thugs to flank her. They were already starting to move down the escalators and around the atrium, trying to get a better shot.

The elevator was cylindrical, and little more than a glass tube that overlooked the atrium. Faith dove inside the minute it opened and hit the button highest floor she could go. If she could get above them, out of their higher ground, she had a chance.

The glass shattered immediately as soon as the gunmen saw the elevator moving down. Faith pressed herself flat against the floor, shards nearly burying her. There was a small frame of metal along the bottom, her only solid cover in addition to the track the elevator ran up. It was thick enough to stop the rounds, but thin enough to dimple on every impact, and the noise was almost enough to turn her deaf.

Halfway up the track, the elevator suddenly halted, whatever engine or motor running it reduced to a slag of metal and belts by gunfire, but it was enough. Faith kicked off the floor and jumped over the lip of the elevator, cutting her palm on glass as she jumped to the balcony that rimmed the atrium. Shots followed her, but she was only visible for a brief second, and the gunmen were still two levels down.

"What the hell Merc!" she yelled, jamming her earpiece with her finger. It had almost slipped off in the chaos.

"_Jesus, there was nothing, I swear._" He sounded horrified. "_Faith, are you_—"

"I'm fine! Just get me the hell out of here!"

She knew most of the mall's regular exits, but they were all on street level, and likely guarded by Blues and whoever the hell those soldiers were. This was a ground war; she needed something higher, on the roof, before the Blues decided to risk a chopper this far downtown. And that was if the Blues didn't have the roof scoped out, too.

"_Shit, just move, and get higher. Blues are going to be coming in from behind._"

The balcony she was on looped around the atrium, but also overlooked one of the wings. She hopped the railing, dropping a floor and then tucked and rolled on impact. The security gates behind her were closed, which would slow the Blues down a little, but the jump sacrificed some of the distance she had on them.

She ran down the lines of closed stores towards the escalators at the far end of the wing, already hearing the footsteps and crackle of radios behind her. They didn't reach the highest floor, but she was able to use her speed and the wall to scale to the level above. She clawed her way through a few planters that housed the lifeless white fica plants that seemed to be so damn popular lately as the gates behind her started to raise.

"_Straight ahead, hang a left past the escalators. There should be some vents you can use, but they're above you_—"

_BAM!_ A shotgun, from behind her. It chipped at the orange-painted wall, leaving white pockmarks. Faith slid to avoid a follow up blast, which tore exactly where she would have been running a split-second earlier, tearing through the glass-paneled railing that ran alongside her. The Blues had used the escalators to move up on the other side of the wing, just coming into firing range. Bullets nipped at her heels as she rounded the corner in a wild turn.

The vents were indeed far out of reach, but the alcove Merc had led her to was lined with public storage lockers; just wide enough to climb, get a few good steps along the wall and get enough height to grab the edge of the vent and pull herself up.

She burrowed deeper into the ventilation system, not really caring where she was going as long as it was up and away from the Blues. Even with Merc's help though, she had to take a drop down into the employee access alleys behind the store front.

Maybe Ropeburn had tried to set her up at the last minute, but that didn't seem likely. Celeste had probably been right; word had spread that Ropeburn was dead, and maybe his contact thought it was better to try and wax her by tipping the Blues off than to simply vanish. But there was no way that those soldiers and the Blues were there by chance, and there was no way a professional hitman would let himself get that close to them. It was an ambush; he had led her straight into their killzone.

Radios crackled from behind doors, too close for comfort. Most of the doors were solid metal and locked, so the only way out was back through the vents. She had to move up one more level to a catwalk that ran above in order to get further into the network.

"_Okay, found a way out, but you're going to have to double back through the atrium. If you can make it to the skylight hanging, you can cross it and get to the maintenance pass that runs to the roof._"

"Sounds risky." She pulled a snapshot of the atrium from her head, seeing the decorative hanging he was talking about. "You sure it will hold up under me?"

"_If this is some kind of trick to get me to say you're fat, piss off._"

It wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, but at least it was something. She doubted the Blues had budged from the atrium, so they'd probably be waiting for her. The skylight fixture was mostly glass and steel beams. Assuming it would support her weight, the Blues would be shooting at her, and the whole thing could come down with her on top. That meant a fall a couple of stories onto jagged glass and metal. Maybe even a few bullets.

"_The next left drops you back on the edge of the atrium, third floor._"

That put her about a floor lower than she needed to be. Nevertheless, she dropped down the shaft, then kicked through the vent at the bottom as quietly as she could, pressing her hands and legs to the side to prevent herself from tumbling out. When she didn't hear any voices or radios, she dropped down to the floor, landing in the dark shadows of one of the interior hallways. Beyond a gentle bend in the hall, a security gate was lowered, a Blue with his back turned to her on the other side.

Faith quietly stole behind him into an unfinished store. The front was nothing but clear glass, which didn't give her much comfort. If that cop decided to shift position, he'd have a clear line of site. The ceiling above though was equally unfinished, a series of cork tiles and frames, and through both it and the glass, she could see the fixture that hung from the atrium skylight.

It was in the shape of a large cross, and whether that was out of function or artistic integrity Faith didn't know. Most of the banners that hung over the atrium dangled from underneath it, not quite a mobile, but not quite a solid platform either. The exit Merc pointed out to her was a little more than a crawlspace embedded in the ceiling on the other side of the atrium.

Movement tugged in the corner of her vision. It was the Blue, slowly turning towards her, and then he saw her. If the glass hadn't been there, she would have had the time and distance to take him down, so instead she turned and ran towards the wall. The treads on her Loggos gave her a few feet up, and she slipped through the unfinished ceiling panels. It gave him enough time to draw and fire. Two handgun rounds punched through the cork ceiling tiles ahead of her.

Faith darted across the frames that housed the tiling, feeling them sag under her weight. More gunfire rang out from positions on the ground floor as she neared the lip of the balcony. There was one small section of solid footing, the concrete frame of the mall itself before the wall opened up, some artifact of the unfinished store below her.

The jump was impossibly far, but she jumped anyway, four high floors above the ground. There was a pole just in front of her, void of a banner, which she used to help propel herself across the gap. For a minute, she feared the worst—

—and landed on the fixture with a squeak of rubber. It swayed under her weight, but held fast. Then the bullets arrived, splintering glass all around her. She tucked and rolled, getting back to her feet. It felt like running on waves as the fixture teetered back and forth, and the breaking glass shook her footing, but she jumped and cleared the other side of the gap and darted into the crawlspace.

It led her to the maintenance stairwell, and after a few steps up, the roof access door was right in front of her. She kicked it, breaking the lock, and stepped out onto open roof. Late morning sunshine beat down, not yet warming the concrete roofing.

But she wasn't alone.

He was standing on a rooftop across the street, completely out of reach. Ropeburn's contact, the assassin, was quietly watching her, like he had been waiting for her to emerge from that one door the entire time. Faith swallowed uneasily, glancing around in anticipation of another ambush, but there was nothing.

"Merc, looks like my friend is back," she said, watching him carefully. "He's just standing there, watching me."

"_Think he's the one who killed Pope?_"

"Don't know. Could have killed Ropeburn yesterday, too. Could have probably killed me right now if he wanted to…"

"_So why ain't he?_"

He was too far away to get a good look, but his face was covered anyways. She thought she recognized the wire meshing of some kind of protective sports helmet, dyed that same off-white as his uniform. She for sure saw that he wasn't carrying any type of rifle, or at least any gun that she could see. His arms were crossed, legs in an easy stance.

The assassin watched her for just a couple of seconds longer, then turned and broke into a light jog. She saw him jump once to clear a gap, but with her lower ground, she quickly lost sight of him, and just like that, he was gone. A hiss of frustration left her throat, but she needed to keep moving. The Blues were still behind her.

"I don't know," she said to Merc finally, "But I think I know someone who does. Listen, skies are clear so far. Point me towards the closest route, then get on the horn with Drake. I need to find Jacknife."

Jacknife never saw her coming. It just showed how much his skill as a Runner was starting to fade, but Faith honestly didn't care how much he let himself go. The less she could associate herself with him and what she did the better.

It had taken Merc and Drake working in tandem the rest of the morning to track him down, monitoring gang chatter through the wires and calling in favors, but they found him. It didn't take as long as she initially figured since they started in the Lower East Side; apparently that was his turf now, and that helped narrow the search. He wasn't big on keeping himself hidden, either.

Faith crept along the underside of a rail overpass about a story above him. He was walking alone down the sidewalk. He looked like a punk, hands thrust in his pockets, the collar of his leather jacket popped up. This part of the Lower East side was a shit neighborhood, but he didn't seem to care; like nothing in the world could touch him. She couldn't help but bare her teeth in revulsion, but she pushed it aside. He was going to learn that he should watch his back very soon.

He more or less followed the overpass as he strolled which was convenient for her, eventually turning off the street and into the back alleys. A train passed overhead, and then she slipped off the maintenance catwalk, the sound of her impact covered by the noise on the tracks. She had to give him some credit; he recognized the sound of her footsteps under the noise as she sprinted to close the gap and began to turn. He was still too slow.

She wished she could have followed up the single punch to his jaw with a lot more, preferably enough to leave him unconscious and bleeding, but one was all she needed. Jacknife took the brunt of her right hook plus whatever momentum she was still carrying, reeling to the side and giving her enough time to push forward and twist his right arm high behind his back, her elbow on the back of his skull. What was left of her speed went into shoving him against the concrete support pillar underneath the rail overpass.

He grunted, but amazingly turned it into a chuckle. "Hey Faithy," he said, craning his neck to glance at her. There was pain in his words. "Nice of you to _drop by_."

She didn't give into any of his crap, and instead fed it right back at him. "Getting rusty, Jack. Should have heard me coming ten seconds earlier, seen me twenty seconds. Guess gang life will do that to you…."

"So you're here to keep me on my toes? How sweet of you. I knew you still—"

"—what I came to say," she interrupted, "was that with a little bit of persuasion, Ropeburn got pretty chatty. Told me all about his little meeting at New Eden mall today…"

"…and you're thanking me, right?"

She twisted his arm further. He grunted, and she considered twisting it a little more. She had spent the morning getting shot at, then tracking down the person she hated the most in the entire the city. The limit she had for anything to do with him was quickly reaching capacity.

"Oh, I'm not done," she snapped. "When I got there, guess who was waiting for me?"

"No idea, Faithy, I just go there for the pretzels."

The shift in his body was subtle. If she hadn't known him, she wouldn't have picked up on it, but she was expecting it. Jacknife whipped his head back, trying to head-butt her, but she leaned back, just narrowly avoiding the blow. That gave him enough room to break her lock on his arm, and he spun, fist outstretched. He was still too slow.

The punch went wide, and Faith was back inside his reach. She lifted her arm, striking his throat and pressing down hard on his Adam's apple, then shoved him back against the pillar. He gasped and went limp again.

"…a bad case of the Blues," she finished icily. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, _would you?_"

She lifted her arm higher, putting more pressure on his throat. He tried to shove her arm off, but she had him good, pressed too close to his body to effectively strike, and with the slightest shift of her body weight, she could do some serious damage.

"No…_ack_, Faithy, it wasn't me!"

Part of her felt good. She had him squirming right under her. It was like taking a hot shower and letting stress wash off. And yet, she hated being this close to him of her own free will, actually _touching him_. In the end, she stepped back and removed her arm. Jacknife doubled over, massaging his throat and gasping for air. Faith watched him carefully.

"…though I did hear about the ruckus CPF had to deal with downtown this morning," he said, voice a little raspy. Even then it sounded snide. "Something about another run in with the illusive suspect in Pope's murder?"

"You're awfully well-informed to not be involved, Jack," she contested, stepping forward menacingly, but at the same time keeping her distance. Just because he was stooped over didn't mean he wasn't primed to fight back. It'd be just like him to fight dirty.

Eventually, he straightened, massaging his throat one last time. "Don't be so delusional Faith. Turn on the TV sometime and watch the news. Besides," he continued, "if I wanted you dead, don't you think I would have just killed you myself?"

His tone genuinely caught her by surprise. Not cocky, arrogant, or teasing. This was cold, and he was glaring at her, not smirking. It wasn't like him to be so straightforward.

Faith's eyes narrowed, and she returned his look. Her body tensed, sensing an attack, but he didn't move. He was just screwing with her again. "You're right," she said, relaxing. "A creep like you couldn't have organized all this."

Jacknife's glare vanished, his cocky bravado now turning into mock-hurt. "Now don't be like that. That hurts my feelings, you know, and give me a little credit; I ran with Merc and Drake. I know a few things about organization." He crossed his arms, head cocked lazily. "So let me guess, you want more information on Ropeburn?"

"Ropeburn's dead," she said flatly.

"I'm impressed," Jacknife said with an appreciative nod.

"It wasn't me," she snapped back. "Whoever killed him seemed to know I was going to be there. Even had a whole squad of Blues ready to show up." Her gaze narrowed accusingly again, but Jacknife just smirked.

"You need to be more careful with who you hang around with," he chided. "Those kinds of friends will get you in trouble."

"Oh, I learned that a _long_ time ago," she said through gritted teeth. The memory tasted sour in her mouth.

Jacknife spread his arms grandly. "And yet, here we are again."

Faith took a step forward, her hand curling into a fist as her nostrils flared with her snarl. She thought about taking another swing at his grinning face after how good the first one felt; her knuckles still stung in a good way, and there was even the beginning of a welt starting to rise on his jaw. But even if he didn't show it, she knew he was on guard. She might get lucky, but it would turn into a fight, and not a beating like she hoped.

He stepped back. "But anyways, I need to cut this meeting a little short," he said, sliding around the edge of the pillar. "Places to be…you know how it is." He turned and thrust his hands into his pockets. The digital tat on the side of his face was as sharp as a sickle as his profile passed. "Try not to get yourself killed."

She started forward after him, but then stopped, letting him walk off. Jacknife wasn't going to give her anything more, unless she beat it out of him, and she wasn't going to stoop that low. Not for him.

Once he sauntered off, Faith sighed. Back to nothing, _again_. Ropeburn was dead, and the one lead he had given her had led her straight into a trap. They were close to something, she could feel it. But they had already dug up everything they could on Ropeburn, and to get anything more on him would take a lot of time, time Kate didn't have. And it would be a step in the wrong direction. Ropeburn had just been a means; she needed to find who he hired, who actually killed Pope.

And then the revelation suddenly popped up in front of her. Or rather, it had been hanging there the entire time, white text on a black billboard. Right next to a digitized emblem of a bulldog. It was sandwiched between a new ad for Vegade and Raposa. If she hadn't been staring at the back of Jacknife's stupid sneering head as he walked off, she wouldn't have even noticed it.

_Pirandello/Kruger Private Security: Securing Your World._

"Pirandello/Kruger," she whispered aloud. _PK._ She mashed her earpiece. "Merc…Merc! You can stop pretending to not listen. Jacknife's gone."

Merc chuckled on the other end. "_What's up kiddo?_"

"I need you to do a web search for Pirandello/Kruger Private Security."

"…_okay. Why do you ask?_" Keyboard clacks were just audible through the earpiece.

"Miller told me that private firms were moving in on city districts," she explained. "He made it sound like a hostile takeover. Those guys I keep bumping into with the Blues had _PK_ on their armor. And the company logo is distinctive; I saw the same emblem on a file in Ropeburn's office. Getting anything?"

"_Mmmm, just what you'd expect. Alarms, fencing, armored cars, private security…oh, and they secure our world, apparently…no mention of secret plots to assassinate political candidates, framing your sister, et cetera._"

Still, it was the connection she was after. CPF, Pirandello/Kruger, and Project Icarus; those three things were involved, and somehow, Pope's murder was the glue holding it together, except a private security firm really didn't factor into anything the police had to do. PK had to be involved for another reason.

"Where are they based?"

More key clacks. "_A few offices around town…but they just got a new place down by the docks. Went up pretty recently. Big place, too._"

"Got some coordinates?"

Merc sighed.

"Merc, this is getting old, you know."

"_Yeah, I know. Figured it was worth a shot, but you're right. Head south, towards the harbor. I'll guide you in. Just watch your back, Faith._"


	20. PirandelloKruger Part 1

**Pirandello/Kruger (Part 1)**

The low-topped district of the waterfront made getting to the docks easy after the concrete jungle that was downtown, but Faith moved carefully to stay discreet, taking longer paths around CPF precincts. Word on the wire was that Callaghan's campaign drive was just wrapping up after a long day, and after the ambush in the mall, CPF was still on high alert. The less attention she could attract, the better. The way she figured it though, they wouldn't expect her to head straight towards a Pirandello/Kruger stronghold in the harbor.

She landed on top of a half-constructed building about half a mile from the waterfront. Like everything else in the city, even the docks saw plenty of renovations, though most of the time buildings were simple, like warehouses or factories. A well-traveled route could vanish in as little as a month because of it, but the Runners usually stayed out of the docks. Too much activity during the day, not enough tall buildings and stash points.

"Am I close yet?" she asked Merc, navigating the skeletal levels of the building. It had been a while since he updated her, and for the most part, she was just tracing an old route this new building was interrupting.

"_Yeah, almost. Should be able to see it soon. It's got that stupid dog symbol on it, so you won't miss it._"

Faith hopped over to the next block, into another level of a partly-finished building. Through one of the windows, she finally saw the Pirandello/Kruger facility, the digitalized bulldog and company name stenciled onto one of the walls facing her. Even if it hadn't been marked so clearly with the name and logo, she would have recognized it. The building was new and clean, a sign of a recent addition, and was built like a fortress. Concrete walls rose just a little higher than the surrounding buildings, and what few windows she could see were only slits of thick, fogged glass.

Behind it rose the industrial district, factory smoke stacks visible as they poured smoke and steam into the air. Even the air at the docks smelled like it was tinged with chemicals over dead fish and smoke. Walls were mostly blank and gray; at least ads were few and far between.

"Okay, I'm here," she said. "Not really liking what I'm seeing…"

"_Yeah, I don't have much for you either. The plans I could find only detail about half of the building. It's like the other half doesn't even exist. I'm guessing anything we want to see is in that side._"

"Yeah," she agreed, "but what about a way in?"

"_Well, they're private security, so they probably take in a lot of gear and munitions. Look for the loading docks; day shift is just about over, so foot traffic should be low.._"

At least the timing was going to work out smoothly. It was pushing five in the afternoon and it was a weekend; the under-staffed day shifts would be clocking out soon. Hopefully that would mean the building was emptier between shifts, but at the same time, this was a private security company that was likely crooked and had been shooting at her the past few days. She was going to stay realistic about how easy it was going to be.

Faith started to make her way back down to street level. The PK center was ringed by some other buildings, and ground level would probably be guarded the most, but there was no way she could reach the surrounding rooftops from where she was. She would have to find a way to scale one of the neighboring buildings from the street.

The only problem was that the dock buildings were mostly warehouses, featureless buildings that consisted of a little more than a rectangular box. They didn't offer much to climb, so she spent a few minutes scouting around until some steam pipes came into view on one of the adjacent buildings. With a little effort, she was able to climb all the way up to the roof.

Once there, she still had to scale a fence and work her way around a few cooling units before she caught site of the PK building again. The rooftop would lead right up to the edge of the loading bays, and she was one step out before she ducked behind an air conditioner.

Just ahead of her, on the other side of a billboard, was a pair of boots pacing back and forth. The guard they were attached to was walking along the face of the billboard on the other side. Faith peered around the corner, scanning the surrounding buildings. After a minute, she spotted another guard on the roof across the street, another on the opposite corner, and one on top the PK building itself. They were all carrying high-powered rifles, identical to the ones the snipers used to try to take her out in the sewers.

"Merc," she whispered, ducking back around the corner, "we've got a problem. They've got snipers looking over the rooftops."

"_Shit, makes you wonder what they got to hide,_" he replied bitterly. "_They spot you?_"

"No, but I can't make it to the building with all of them there. Is there another way around, bays on the other side of the building maybe?"

"_Nope._"

"Well, what's the area look like?"

"_Right now, you're a couple stories up. The loading bays are right below you, which lead to the back of the facility. Looks like some kind of small industrial complex inside, maybe. I'm seeing some cranes positioned nearby; you can probably use the support cable to get to the street, but that's it. Whether you can do it without getting shot is the question._"

Indeed it was. As Faith glanced at the other snipers, she noticed they each seemed to be patrolling a section of roof. For a few minutes, some of them weren't even looking over the loading bay below or at some of the rooftops. If she could time it right, she might be able to sneak in right past them…but the issue with that plan was the sniper in front of her behind the billboard. He hadn't stepped out or moved to another part of the building, which meant his eyes were probably glued on the bay, right where she needed to be.

Faith did a quick assessment on the surrounding area, spotting the tall loading crane that sat on the building next door. One of its support wires was anchored to the ground right next to the loading bay, making a perfect zip line. As long as she wasn't spotted on the way down, it would work.

She gritted her teeth, then quickly stole out from behind the corner, moving quietly. Ducking behind AC units and solar panels, she worked her way closer to the billboard. As she neared it, she heard the crackle of a radio, then the sniper's response.

"Gamma three, nothing spotted on my end, over."

Great, if they were reporting in, that meant she'd be working on a time limit too. But now was as good a time as any.

Faith scraped her Loggo along the rooftop and knocked her heel once; the sound of movement. The sniper took the bait. She heard footsteps come her way, stepping down the grated metal stairs that led up to the small platform along the face of the billboard. There was another crackle of radio static. He was close.

She waited as long as she dared, then struck. The billboard served as a shield, hiding her from view from the rest of the snipers. They would have to be watching the spot very closely to notice any movement from just beneath the lip of the ad. Faith jumped out from behind the AC unit she was crouched behind, grabbing the barrel of the sniper's rifle and slamming the muzzle down as she jumped into the air. The first kick that lashed out was weak, striking on the layer of armor he wore, but it only served to stun him and act as a counterweight for her next kick. She scissored in mid-air, the instep of her foot cracking solidly against the side of his skull. His balaclava didn't do much to protect him.

The sniper went down hard but quiet with only a jerk of surprise when she first sprang out. His body hit the ground, and she caught the rifle quickly to prevent it from clattering, listening as hard as she could. No shouts, no shots, no alarm being raised. The sniper's radio crackled again, but that was it.

She let out a breath of relief, set the rifle down, and looked around the billboard again. The guard on the rooftop was out of sight, but the other two that she could see – the one on the corner and the other on the side of the street – weren't even facing her, instead scanning side alleys. The bay below was mostly open, but there was a row of trailers along the side that ran right up to the building. Faith swept out of cover, sprinting towards the crane's high-tension support wires, then slid down to ground level. As soon as she was on the ground, she ducked under a semi trailer. Again, no commotion or gunfire.

With a little more cover to maneuver under, Faith moved towards the loading bay, slipping in through a door. A bare, concrete hallway stretched in front of her. Faith had seen dozens of interiors just like the inside of the PK building; lots of concrete, primary colors, and bare furnishings, however, like the outside, there was a _newness_ about it. Everything was still crisp and fresh. The inside was just as solidly built as the outside looked, like if even you were inside it, the building itself didn't want you to be.

"Okay Merc," she whispered, "I'm in. Gonna need your guidance."

"_I'll do what I can, provided you stay in the area I have plans for. For now, just follow the hall you're in. My bet is that you can make it through the loading bays into shipping, and get into the rest of the building that way._"

The hallway turned after a few dozen feet, then led into a warehouse. She was greeted by rows and rows of shelving stacked several layers high towards a tall ceiling. The only sound was some ambient hum from deeper within the facility. The walls around her were too thick to let in the hustle and bustle of the surrounding docks. She dialed down the volume on her earpiece to compensate. If she kept it too loud, his directions might draw attention.

It was either because the day shift was over or the building was stingy on electricity, because everything was lit with low-level red lighting. Or, it was just the red paint that made her think everything was lit in red, she couldn't tell. The darkness would help her blend nicely though, and not a moment too soon. There was movement and the sound of footsteps on metal above her.

Faith ducked into the shadows along some crates as footsteps passed overhead. A lone guard with a submachine gun or a compact assault rifle slung over his back scanned the area from a catwalk near the ceiling. From her hiding spot, she scanned for any friends of his, either on the catwalk or ground level. He lingered for a bit, then strolled down the catwalk. She quietly tailed him from below, sticking close to the lowest stacks of crates on the shelves to keep out of sight.

The shelving housed a variety of items. Some crates were wooden and unmarked, sometimes shrink-wrapped. Pallets stacked what looked like dry goods or other boxes. The wall to her left that lined the inside of the building consisted of stacks of metal containers each stamped with the bulldog logo, but each of them also sported a thick, heavy padlock. Faith wondered briefly what could be inside; ammunition, weapons, electronics…with a shady private security company, who knew? She was too focused on staying out of sight to give it further thought.

According to Merc, she was headed deeper inside the building. She didn't want to answer him and risk drawing the attention of the guard, so she stayed quiet and continued to tail him. A wide metal doorframe connected to the next room, with another door near the ceiling that connected the catwalks above. This one had to be the actual loading bay, which made sense if it was connected to the warehouse. There were rows of conveyor belts that passed through the walls, opposite the walls that housed the large metal shutters for loading material into trucks. _With snipers right outside_, she reminded herself. If things went bad, getting out in a hurry would be difficult with shooters waiting for her to exit.

"_Plans show that you can move through the conveyor system. Leads to almost the center of the building, and that's where they suddenly end._"

The belts were off, but the gates that linked the rooms were still open. Faith ducked behind one of them and waited for the guard above to step out of sight. When he did, she slid through the small opening, brushing past dangling plastic sleeves that covered them. Another warehouse, with more stacked crates and shelves. This one stretched further back, so she followed the shelving until it abruptly dead-ended on her.

Frustrated, she thumbed her ear. "Merc, there's nothing here. Unless it's illegal to store…" she peered at the nearest crate, squinting in the low light, "…tiramisu, then we're wasting our time. Is there any way to get into the other part of the building?"

"_Building's ventilation system runs right below you. Looks like this part of the warehouse overlaps a bit with the area behind the wall, whatever it is. The shaft should be ground level, towards the corner to your right._"

It was a wide industrial one, and she didn't have any problem kicking it in. But the shaft itself only started out wide, then quickly narrowed, until she could barely move her elbows out to crawl forward. Just after one bend in the shaft, things turned almost completely black; there were no other grates along the sides. She tried to push the sensation of getting lost in an unfamiliar building – one full of people that would probably shoot her on sight if discovered – out of her mind, but it wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do.

Just when a bout of claustrophobia started to kick in, the shaft lit up ahead. There was a single grate just ahead. Faith eagerly scrabbled forward with some difficulty, then peered down it and listened for a few minutes. She couldn't see or hear anything, so she decided to chance it. It was hard to do in the cramped vent, but she managed to twist herself around and kicked it open after a couple of tries.

The contrast in setting was incredible. Faith had to shield her eyes a bit to account for the lighting after she dropped from the vent, and even then, spots still flickered from how bright it was. No more dimly lit red and shadows. Everything was painted a sterile white, almost like a hospital, trimmed in orange. She was at the end of a hallway which stretched down a few dozen feet before turning. On the corner, high on the wall, was a security camera.

She instantly pressed herself along the wall, hopefully out of the camera's field of vision. "Okay, I think I'm in."

"_Your receiver isn't on the grid of plans I got, so from here on out, you're on your own,_" Merc warned. "_Watch yourself._"

"Yeah, already got a camera," she said. "If they spotted me, they're being quiet about it." She doubted she would get in and out without raising some kind of alarm or suspicion. Hopefully whoever was sitting watching the cameras didn't notice her drop down.

With that in mind, she tried to move quickly, sticking to the walls and listening carefully for footsteps or something that would prelude an ambush. Compared to the ambient hum of the industrial warehouse and loading bays, the inner facility was eerily quiet, almost silent. There was just the faint buzz from the fluorescent lighting that kept everything so brightly lit. As long as she kept her own footsteps quiet, hearing someone approach should be easy.

The hallway led her up a flight of stairs, then down another hallway to an intersection. There was a sign on the wall that mapped out various paths; security straight ahead – something to avoid, obviously – maintenance to the left, locker rooms with security as well…but one caught her eye. It was something called the ICR Facility, and it was in the same direction as detention.

ICR. Like Icarus. Maybe, but it was worth a look.

Faith turned right and headed down the hallway. At first there were no doors, but then windows began to come into view. Most were just black on the other side, others looking into a room lit with a single bulb. Bare concrete walls, and sparse metal furniture. She stopped dead in her tracks as she jogged by the last one.

The last window looked into one of the lit rooms, and there was a man handcuffed to a chair, tipped over and sprawled across the ground. Dark red splotches cooled on the concrete floor and on his shirt. She couldn't see his face, but he wasn't moving, like he was just left there, either dead or unconscious.

She fumbled at her ear. "Merc, there's some _twisted_ shit going on here. I can see into a room; it looks like they beat someone to a pulp."

"_Anyone we know?_"

She swallowed, then turned away to get the scene out of her mind. No, of course not, which meant she needed to keep moving. She didn't break into PK to free someone she didn't even know who wasn't even conscious. Cold, yeah, and it didn't make her feel that great about herself, but if she stuck around too long, that might be her in there.

Past the interrogation rooms, the hallway ended with a small cage elevator. Next to it was a stenciled plaque labeled _ICR Facility and Training._ There was just one button inside the elevator, so she stepped inside and rode it up.

The ride didn't last long. The elevator clanged to a halt, and Faith pressed herself against the inside of the car to get the drop on anyone who might be waiting, but there was no one to greet her. She stepped into what looked like a bomb shelter, despite the fact she had ridden it _up_. The walls, ceiling, and floor were concrete, the PK bulldog logo stenciled on the floor. One wall housed a row of servers, the other a series of screens and keyboards, and the wall across from her was a set of thick metal blast doors.

Whatever was behind them had to be Icarus.


	21. PirandelloKruger Part 2

**Pirandello/Kruger (Part 2)**

Faith quickly jogged to the row of keyboards and screens. The clock was ticking, and she needed to find out what was behind that door before the whole facility realized there was a Runner inside.

Most of the screens were on idle, displaying the PK logo bouncing back and forth. As soon as she touched the keyboard, they all lit up. No passwords, no security, not even so much as a login. At first, she couldn't believe it, but then she thought that maybe PK wouldn't expect anyone to get this far into their facility, although something warned her in the back of her mind that it shouldn't be this easy; she expected a SWAT team to burst in any second.

She dug around the interface until she found a search feature, then punched in _Icarus_. The result was nearly instantaneous. The screen began to spit out files; text documents, photos, spreadsheets, almost any type of format she was familiar with. Dozens, if not hundreds of files scrolled past and kept going.

"Jackpot Merc," she relayed back. "I think this is the nerve center."

"_Whatchya find?_" His voice was laced with static. The walls around her must have been thick, even if he had boosted the signal.

"Gimme a sec."

She began with the first files the computer returned and opened them. Nothing but useless spreadsheets that looked like bank statements, others that looked like zoning permits or construction forms, all sanctioned by Callaghan Construction. She moved on to the image files next. The first few were just a couple of snapshots of the city. There were a few locations she recognized; Spaetz Plaza, Harborside Walk, a cut of downtown and the Financial District…all great areas to run, but nothing seemed to be that significant about them. The next few were something that looked like a couple of blueprints for a construction project, stamped with the CC company logo and labeled 'ICR Training'. Something small scale, less than a city block.

"It's all just…plans," she said flatly, paging through more of the same. "Pictures, graphics, money transfers, and a couple of snapshots of the city, places we usually pass through. Like maybe they're trying to get a sense of our routes? And they're building something, too. Whatever it is, they're calling it a training ground."

Merc snorted. "_What are they training 'em for? What's left in this city that they haven't been able to tax, ban, or regulate? What the hell's left, huh?_"

Faith opened the next image, and that's when it all started to fall into place.

A familiar face materialized on screen. Mid-thirties, dark hair, a soldier's build that was now fine-tuned for speed. She didn't see him nearly as much as Merc.

"Drake?" It was his old Air Force picture from before he was discharged.

"_You broke up for a sec, what about Drake?_"

Faith accessed the next file. This time, a snapshot of Merc appeared. He was about ten years younger, clean cut. The image was stamped property of Eastside Engineering, his life before becoming a Runner.

She started to access the next files, a pit beginning to grow in her stomach. Kreeg's old Marine photo. Celeste's mug shot from juvie detention from before she combed her hair back and shaved the sides. Then Leaf's pink dye-job, then Jace's dark, narrow features, Trance's hastily-dyed blonde Mohawk with brown roots, Genesis's snaking digital tat across her eyes…more Runners panned by, and finally, there was herself, a picture taken from some camera on some rooftop she no longer remembered. A time before the Runner logo was permanently etched around her eye.

The pictures lined the monitors, each of them detailing their appearance and distinctive features, their possible known whereabouts and possible family. But all of them bore the same text that made her blood run cold:

_Terminate on sight._

"Oh God," she breathed as she realized what she was looking at. "Merc…"

"_Faith, what's wrong?_"

"This Project Icarus…Pirandello/Kruger isn't bolstering the police. They're being trained…to come after _us._ The Runners. _All_ of us!"

"_What?_"

"We're what's left Merc. They're targeting us!"

The pictures, the diagrams, the training ground blueprints; it was all to start training cops and enforcers to take out the Runners. Every day, either the CPF or PK was responding faster and faster, showing up at just the wrong time, like they had been lying in wait. What else would all this data be used for? Why else would the Blues and PK enforcers be shooting on sight with heavy artillery? How else did they know where to ambush them on their routes?

She started tearing through the files again. There had to be more. Some link to Kate, some detail that would tie it all together. Her name was listed beneath her picture, but even if it was to draw her out, there had to be something more specific. Why Kate, why a cop, and why Robert Pope?

"_Look Faith, you've done enough, you need to get the hell out of there, like _right now."

Not yet. Not until she found what she was looking for. She couldn't leave empty handed. There was nothing she could do to take any of what she was seeing with her, if it would even help. Her thoughts drifted back to Miller for a second; was he in on this? If he was, how far did extend into the CPF?

She was browsing files so fast that she almost missed it. A grainy video feed popped up, and just as it was replaced with another spreadsheet, her digging ground to a halt. It wasn't _what_ she saw, it was _who_. She pulled the feed back up. It looked like a simple security camera, but the timestamp was current.

"Merc, it's that guy, the guy from the mall!" Ropeburn's professional, the one who led her into the ambush at New Eden. The video feed was overlooking the deck of a ship, or a pier, or something else loaded with freight containers. The harbor stretched behind him. "There's a surveillance feed here. He's a on a boat, looks like the harbor. I can barely make out the ship's ID number…looks like seventy-eight, four-four-three…can't make the rest out…" She burned the landscape into her head, memorizing what little she could see for reference. He was in the docks, and that meant he was close.

"_Faith, I'm not screwing around, you need to get the _HELL_ out!_"

The elevator suddenly churned to life and began to descend. Faith cursed, her way back now cut off with company likely arriving soon, but at the same time the thick blast doors opened, and she got her first look at Project Icarus.

She was right, it was a training ground. From some large inside courtyard or hanger with no ceiling rose an elaborate structure a little smaller than a city block. Straight walls, narrow gaps and corridors, sudden drops and ledges, twists and turns…the minute she saw it, the Flow went crazy. It was better than anything Merc or Drake could have sniffed out for a training ground. The structure was _made_ for running.

Behind her, the elevator clanged again as it returned, snapping her from her gaping stare. Faith whirled, expecting Blues or armed enforcers, but was instead confronted by two lone figures.

They were nearly identical to each other, the only discernable difference their heights. Both wore dark green fatigues with black armored vests, complete with knee, hand, and elbow guards. Their helmets were halfway between a catcher's mask and a hockey helmet, but narrower and curved for speed. It was what the assassin had been wearing, only pitch black. Balaclavas beneath made their eyes stand out, but she was more focused on their belts of equipment, complete with guns and other wicked looking riot gear.

They wore badges, standard CPF identification, pinned high and lazily on their shoulders. _The People We Serve, the City We Protect_.

Despite their lethal outer appearance, both of their eyes widened in surprise behind their masks, but then narrowed slyly. She could almost swear they were smiling. The taller of the two stepped forward, raising his hands to crack his knuckles. Neither of them went for their weapons.

Faith crouched low at the challenge, but froze. Just the two of them. She always felt confident in her abilities, but something warned her not to stay and fight. The longer she stayed there, the more likely she was going to end up like that motionless body in the interrogation cell. In a flash, she turned, ground her foot on the concrete, and took off running towards the structure. The two enforcers sprinted after her.

Any Runner worth their salt could outrun a cop. Even a novice on the tops could lose a Blue. They didn't tempt gravity like they did, or know the fastest way to move. These two were different. She scaled a small, waist-high ledge. They followed suit perfectly, keeping up their speed. She kicked off a wall, grabbing a higher platform. A heartbeat later, so did they. She moved higher onto the structure, aiming for a small catwalk that bordered the space with a closed door, but no matter what move she pulled off, her pursuers kept up.

_Like hunters_, she thought, pulling herself up another level, then vaulted across a gap. _Trained to move like us and hunt us down._ To catch a Runner, you didn't call the cops; you needed another Runner.

It was almost scary how they moved so similar to her; beginners thought running was all about speed, but half of it was endurance. You never sprinted yourself to exhaustion. That was the first rule most cops didn't know, but not these. They broke off from each other, splitting onto different paths. Not chasing. _Cornering_.

It worked. They knew this particular patch of ground better than her, how the Flow – or whatever they called it – turned or crossed ahead. The one behind her forced her onto a new platform, the second leaping at her from an overhang to her left. Nothing fancy, but it forced her to divert and roll. Enough to slow her down.

Faith came out of her roll, but one of them was already on her. Instead of tackling her, he _kicked_, sailing through the air just above her as she ducked low. Then the other one attacked. She blocked a kick and then a punch, then struck low, going at the soft spots between his armor. The cop countered, and she ducked and spun, lashing out with her leg and aiming the sweep at his leg. It landed, but just enough to make him stumble.

The first cop was already coming at her again, his fist outstretched. Faith whirled around and duck as a gentle _hissss_ of red mace clouded the air. A whiff of it burned her nose and throat. Non-lethal means, which meant that they were trying to take her alive. She rose and grabbed his wrist, wrenching him at the elbow to flip him forward. He did, but landed on his feet, then twisted _her_ over. Caught completely off guard, her arm was wrenched forward, flipping her onto her back.

The air rushed from her lungs, but she kicked up and over her head, the toe of her shoe catching him right in the solar plexus before he could aim the aerosol at her face. There was a blur of green and black in the corner of her vision, and despite the pain of breathing, she rolled hard to the side as a loud _POP_ sounded. Something metal and sparking ricocheted off the concrete platform, two wires leading back. _Tktktktktktktktk._ The second cop had his gun drawn. Not a firearm, a taser. He discharged the cartridge and began to load another.

Faith jumped forward as he leveled it again, keeping it pointed away from her. That's when the other one got sloppy and came at her again. She feinted, still holding the cop's arm, then spun and kicked. The metal grill covering his face hurt like hell as it smashed against her instep, but he spun from the blow and rolled away, his mask askew.

The cop tried to punch, but his swing went wide. Faith struck the inside of his arm, trapping it and turning it towards him, then grabbed his hand on the taser. It went off, the two metal prongs lodging into the armor of his chest. The prongs chattered that same _tktktktktktk_ as the cop spasmed violently, letting out a choked gurgle and falling to the ground.

The other cop was righting himself, but Faith didn't stick around. She hopped the next wall as a door on the level above opened. It was another one of those cops, and he didn't even slow down to vault the railing to the platforms below.

She vaulted the next wall ahead of her. The new cop and the other one were back on her tail, following her moves just as easily as another Runner. Even after jumping from platform to platform, they stayed right with her. The catwalk that rimmed the circular room loomed within jumping distance, and she leaped off the platform and mantled the railing, kicking through the door.

Bleach-white walls dazzled her again. The training facility had been brightly lit, but cool grays and beiges paled in intensity to the inner hallways of the facility. She focused instead on the color trimmings while her eyes adjusted, not breaking her sprint. She could hear the sound of quick footsteps right behind her, then voices. Then the gunfire started.

She hadn't seen them with firearms, just their tasers, but bullets were bullets. Security guards, maybe, from a turn in the hall behind her. A round clipped off the wall next to her as she rounded the corner, not daring to look back and lose even a fraction of speed. The hallways stretched on ahead, turning slightly before a glass window that overlooked an alley or a street below. More gunfire sounded behind her after a pause, breaking the glass on both sides. Faith jumped the alley, landing back in the building on the other side. Glass crunched beneath the shoes of the pursuers as they followed.

The hallway seemed to turn into a maintenance corridor, white becoming gray concrete. There was another window at the far end, and beyond that, rooftops. Faith dug in and sprinted as hard as she could towards it, then jumped and curled her body, taking the glass shoulder-first. If it was bulletproof, she was finished, but it gave way easily under her weight.

The fall was short, and she managed to land on her feet and roll smoothly, slicing a gash on her bare shoulder that began to trickle blood down her back. She could hear Merc in her ear, but there was no time to even stop and ask him for a route; she'd left her earpiece on a closed channel. She picked a direction, following the Flow, and started running. The pursuing cops flew right out the window and honed in on her again, undeterred by the broken glass in their suits and armor.

At this end of the facility, the docks slowly turned into low-income housing that bordered the harbor. Lots of apartment units, narrow streets, and easy if not readily seen paths. It would be a matter of speed. She jumped to the next rooftop, then to a stairwell. Up a flight, then over the edge and across another roof, then across to another. They stayed behind her the whole way.

She had to keep moving, forcing them to chase without being able to steady a weapon or close in on her. It wasn't something either of them could keep up. Either Faith would fatigue, or they would.

The buildings widened out a bit just up ahead. Faith jumped to a ventilation shaft that ran along the side. The footsteps of her pursuers thumped behind her, and the shaft sagged a little in its mounting. She ignored the harrowing thought that maybe the vent wasn't strong enough to hold three people, sliding under a low overhang from another crossing shaft. There was one more rooftop, and from there her options were starting to diminish.

A rail overpass loomed just ahead of the roof, a train coming around the bend. Faith set her teeth, breath hissing through as she panted. It was time to find out just how much like Runners they really were. They could practice and mimic their moves all they wanted, but the real question is whether or not they had that crazy need for adrenaline.

She willed all of her strength into her legs. The gap ahead was long, too long for a jump, and there was no solid ground. None that wasn't moving, at least.

Her foot hit the edge just as the train was passing by on the overpass. She leapt as hard as she could, swinging her body into a turn, catching sight of her pursuers behind her. The landing was going to hurt, but she needed every last inch. As she hit the Deadpoint, that funny period where time seemed to stretch, she realized just how close they had been; almost close enough to touch her. Only now they were skidding to a halt, bleeding their speed as she sailed over the edge. She even saw one of them trip and tumble to the ground.

Faith raised her hand and extended her middle finger in a rude salute. Time resumed, gravity forced her stomach up her throat, and she hit the train on her back.

If she had jumped too early, she would have landed on the tracks and gotten pulped by the train. As it was, she bounced hard off the second car. The force of her fall tugged her dangerously towards the side, but she slapped at the metal, digging her fingertips into grooves. Her ankles slipped over, but she stayed on top.

The pain of the impact hit her suddenly as she rolled onto her back, made all the worse by the bouncing metal she was laying on, and she was distinctly aware that she wasn't breathing. Her spine felt broken in half, but since she could feel everything below the waist, she guessed she hadn't paralyzed herself.

The two cops on the edge of the rooftop turned smaller and smaller, both of them watching the train depart until she lost sight of them when the train turned around a bend.

She found her breath, but it was painful. Her diaphragm ached from the impact, and the burning in her lungs from the intense chase only made it worse. Merc's voice was barely audible in her earpiece, lost over the sound of rushing wind and clanging metal. She pressed it deeper to hear better, then shouted weakly.

"Merc, _Merc_! Shut up, I'm fine."

He ignored her and swore at for a couple of minutes, but she let him. She didn't need to run, since the train was carrying her, and she was too sore to feel like arguing, so she just let him vent. When he was done, he finally asked if she was okay.

"Yeah, I said I'm fine. Still alive. They're like Runners, Merc. PK's been training Runners, and they're pretty damn good."

"_Shit._"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Get on the horn, warn Drake and the rest of the crew. If these guys haven't been deployed yet, they will be soon now that we know."

"_Okay, but I need you back here. I have an idea—_"

"No." She shook her head. Not after what she saw on the computer. Not when she knew Pope's killer was in the area. "I'm going after that guy."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks <strong>**edao for picking up some errors on previous chapters!**


	22. Boat

**Boat**

Faith ran.

She ran as hard as she could. The docks were long, stretching for miles along the inlet that jutted into the city. The place she saw the assassin could have been anywhere along the water. All she had was that tiny, grainy snapshot and a couple of numbers on the side of a ship's hull. But she would find it. Merc was quiet in her ear, busy talking to Drake and getting the word out about what they were facing. Every so often, he would chime in with an update on CPF activity, though CPF hardly seemed like the biggest threat anymore.

Night was beginning to settle in. The sun had dipped down just below the horizon, turning the water into murky soot as darkness spread further. Behind her, the city started to light up in yellows and oranges, but the docks themselves were only lit by bare bulbs and streetlamps of white and pale yellow. The whole time she fought the urge to continuously check behind her. That feeling of being hunted had returned, only this time she wasn't worried about helicopters or cameras. Those Runner cops were out there, moving along the rooftops just like she was. She didn't know how many there were, or where they were searching, but they were out there all the same.

The cooling air started to slowly burn in her lungs, and she finally had to take a break to catch her breath after it became painful. Then she was moving again until they burned again. Then she rested, and then ran. It seemed to go on for hours, but she was _going_ to find that boat.

Like pieces of a puzzle, the vista she had seen from the camera slid into view little by little as she glanced out over the water, like she had been doing every few blocks. Ships lined the harbor, ranging from large freighters to private yachts, but none of them had that special bit of landscaped behind it. She ground to a halt, then scanned the docks below. None of the ships' hulls matched the ID she saw on the camera. She went a little further; still nothing.

Then, finally, she recognized it. She wouldn't have even needed the hull ID; Z Burfield IS was stenciled on the side. Ropeburn. Even after his death, PK was still exploiting his industry.

It was a big freighter. There was nothing conspicuous about it, but it wasn't hard to spot the PK armored vans nearby, or the shipping containers that bore that digitized bulldog stacked both in the yard and still on the ship. From her vantage point high on a warehouse, she saw tiny figures walking regular patrols, both on deck and on the docks. Tall fences, a security gate, guards with automatic weapons, the works.

Faith swallowed, her neck and tank top drenched in sweat, then pressed her earpiece. "Merc, I found it…you there?"

There was a scuffle as he returned. "_Yeah, just wrapped up with Drake. He ordered all of his Runners back, but everyone's on high alert; they know our routes, gotta make sure they don't know where we hide_, _too._"

If they did, she suspected the CPF or PK would have done something already, but there was no sense in getting too relaxed just yet. "Can you ping me? Anything about the area? The place is crawling with PK."

"_One sec…_" There was the clack of keys, then a sigh. "_Nothing._ _It's a boat. One way on or off, unless you feel like getting wet._"

He was right about that. A high steel hull, no way to get up to the deck from the docks, and about a dozen armed and armored men were watching the only loading ramp in. She scanned the deck, hoping she might catch a glimpse of the assassin…if he was still there, that was.

"Pope's killer is on there, Merc. I need a way in." Her muscles might have burned, and she was out of breath, but she needed to act while she was still hot and loose.

"_So you're just going to charge in? Look, think it through for a minute, you've been moving non-stop. You raise an alarm, you'll be up to your ass in PK, and CPF will roll in and do the rest, assuming there's enough of you left over to haul off to a cell._"

He was right. There could be no screw-ups, at least not until she was in and out of the boat with what she needed. With that in the front of her mind, she poured over the docks and the loading yard below like a fresh Runner picking out a new path from the Flow. Plenty of paths down, but nothing up. Dead ends, the last thing a Runner wanted. There always needed to be a branching path, somewhere else to go, and everything ended in the …

The docks were always busy, even at night, though the activity wasn't quite as lively. Containers were always being loaded and unloaded onto different ships; the city was an international hub of imports and exports. As she scanned the area below, a small truck pulled up the gate. Even up so high, over a faint foghorn, she could hear voices as the driver and a guard conversed. After a couple of seconds, the guard stepped away. The area was brightly lit with spotlights, but there were gaps of darkness.

She didn't wait any longer. She sprinted down the short length of factory roof, then hopped down to a small alcove. A razor wire fence tried to block her, but she slipped over it with the help of a wall, then slid under a series of AC units in one motion, finally hopping to a small balcony that let her grab a pipe and slide down to the ground.

The truck honked angrily. "_What's the hold-up!?_" the driver yelled. "_Christ, you going to make me sit here all night!_"

Faith ducked into the shadows behind a stack of empty containers, then peeked around the edge to make sure no one was coming. One of the guards answered the driver, and he didn't sound any nicer. "_We're processing your paperwork. You'll be allowed through shortly._" She saw him step up to the truck's driver-side window, retrieve something, then walk back to the guardhouse.

The back of the truck was only a few steps away, exposed, but if she didn't move now, she'd lose her chance. Faith ran out, trying to keep her footsteps quiet on the loose gravel and made it to the rear door of the truck. Fortunately, it wasn't a rollup shutter; it was a simple latch, and it was unlocked. She opened it, then closed it behind her.

"_Faith, what the hell are you doing?_" asked Merc. To him, it probably looked like she was trying to charge the front gate on the GPS.

"Hitching a ride," she said. "_Shhh_."

The inside of the truck was dark, but she could make out boxes, a few barrels, and a few pallets. She tucked herself behind a small nook, drawing her knees to her chest to hide herself as much as possible. The voices outside were a bit muffled from the inside, but there was the rattle of moving metal, and the truck lurched as it started to move.

From there, it was impossible to tell exactly where she was going. Hopefully into the boat, like she had planned. There were a few small bumps that could have been the boarding ramp, then the sound of the engine turned hollow, as if it was bouncing off long walls. A squeak of rubber tires on the floor that was equally hollow, the occasional slight turn. The truck was moving pretty slowly.

The nasty thought of someone coming to inspect the contents of the truck did come to mind. If that was the case, she had the element of surprise, provided there weren't a lot of heavily armed enforcers waiting for her.

The truck rattled, jarring the contents. "What the hell is even on this boat anyways?" she muttered to Merc.

"_No idea. Could be munitions, I guess. Might be something to do with this Project Icarus, like that's any comfort._"

"Great."

"_Look Faith, if that guy is still there, you know he's not going to just hand over what he knows._"

"So I'll beat it out of him."

"_In the middle of a PK freighter covered with enforcers,_" he said flatly. "_I hope it's a quiet beatin'._ _Make him talk, then _get out. _I'll do what I can, but I can't do much._"

"I'll leave the channel open for you," she assured him, flicking the switch on the bud.

The truck bounced again, then ground to a halt. The engine stayed running for a few seconds before going quiet. Faith's heart quickened as she heard a few doors slam, then footsteps over the clicking of the cooling engine. She could just make out a few voices through the outer bed of the truck. She wouldn't admit it to Merc, but she hadn't thought this far ahead in her plan.

There was the rattle of the latch, and she simply acted, leaping up to grab a handhold on the ceiling just as the door began to swing open. She caught a brief glimpse of a figure, the outline of a head and a pair of shoulders as the soles of her feet crashed into the face of whoever was unfortunate enough to open the truck bed. The momentum carried her out the door, over the person, where she landed in a crouch.

The movement next to her didn't warn her, it was the surprised curse and the sound of fumbling. Faith spun, catching a hazy blur of black as an enforcer scrambled to ready his weapon. She lashed out with a leg, her heel cracking him neatly in the side of the head. The impact of a Kevlar helmet resounded up her leg, the blow knocking him into the side of the truck. Even then, it wasn't enough to drop him. She followed up with a punch straight into his nose, and he went down in a loose tangle of limbs.

Faith glanced around quickly, but there weren't any other enforcers in sight. She was inside a loading or transport area. Semi trailers lined the far wall, and trucks like the one she had stowed away in dotted everywhere else in between, things neatly stacked and ordered to save space.

She looked down at the two unconscious bodies. The other person she had dropped – presumably the driver – wasn't wearing PK threads. She felt a little guilty about laying him out cold, but better to be safe than sorry. She was working on a time limit. As soon as those two woke up, the alarm would be raised. Just to be safe, she ripped the cord out of the radio on the enforcer's belt. If no one found them before they woke up, at least that would buy her a few extra seconds. Maybe. She headed to a hatch on the far wall.

The hull of the ship was too _thick_ for her tastes. Not the springy, hollow metal of a vent, where you could feel the open space beyond, or hot rooftop concrete, but solid cold steel, riveted and bolted together. Good for jumping and to push against, but strangely suffocating. Color was lacking, save for gray metal striped with forest green, painted right over the bolts.

"_You're not moving too fast, so I assume things are good_?" Merc muttered quietly.

"Yeah," she whispered back tersely as she snuck through a passageway, checking around the corner of another hatch. "Bumped into two, but took them down quick. They won't stay down forever, though."

The halls that stretched the length and width of the ship were quiet. She figured it was because of the late hour, but that hardly meant she could move fast. The open hatches were small, potential tripping hazards, and there was no way of knowing what was around the next corner. Merc wasn't much help either as he predicted; without knowing what kind of make of ship she was on, he couldn't provide guidance, and even if he did, there was no telling where the assassin was located.

For a few minutes, she seemed to wander aimlessly, ducking out of sight or through another passageway as she heard footsteps or the crackle of a radio. She tried to avoid the main passageways altogether, sticking to nooks and crannies in the hull that lead to different decks. The only problem was that she had no way to be certain where Ropeburn's killer was, and there wasn't time to sweep every corner of the boat, assuming he _was_ still on it.

Merc suddenly came back. "_Faith, listen, you need to get up, up on the top deck_."

She slowed down, sliding behind what looked like a ventilation shaft that blocked a crawlspace. "Why?"

"_Just heard from Drake. Trance is doing a high-priority drop, and she just cut through the docks._"

Faith blinked while she processed that. "What? Is she nuts? I thought you told Drake—"

"_I did. Trance just radioed Drake; she saw your guy on the top deck, but she can't stay long, so she's already bugging out. Look like PK is getting pretty nosey in the surrounding area, and she doesn't want to attract any attention to herself, or to you, either._"

She mentally made a note to buy Trance a drink after all this was over. It was gutsy for Drake to still be moving drops with the heightened security, especially with the Icarus guys out on the loose. Must have been something important.

"Got it. Thank Trance for me, and tell her to watch her back out there."

A goal now set in mind, Faith started moving up, still sticking to any form of vent or passageway that was off the beaten path inside the boat. The deck numbers painted on the hull scaled lower and lower as she moved up, until finally, she saw the hazy night sky through the next hatch at the top of a stairwell. She poked her head outside to scan the deck.

It was brightly lit, both from the harbor floodlights and the spotlights on deck, and it was a wide open space. A few lingering shipping containers still sat in a couple of rows, bearing the PK bulldog logo, but it appeared that most had been cleared out already. Faith carefully looked over as much as the deck as she could see from her spot, trying to spot movement of some kind. Then, she saw his chalk-white jumpsuit on the balcony in front of the bridge. Ropeburn's professional was alternating between casually leaning over the railing to pacing impatiently back and forth. Faith didn't know what she expected him to be doing, but at the moment, it was nothing.

She silently stepped out onto the upper deck, keeping to what little shadow there was and moved from cover to cover. It wasn't far to the bridge, but it was open and exposed, which made getting there slow, and she needed to get the drop on him. Closer and closer she crept, using a shipping container as cover, then she darted out across an open path of steel when he turned his back, making it underneath the balcony's stairwell. His footsteps above paced back and forth lightly, his shadow visible through the grated metal floor.

Faith set her jaw, then began to move a couple steps up the stairs when he moved away. He had his back turned to her, looking out over the harbor towards the other side of the city. Carefully, moving silently, she gripped the handrail lightly as she prowled like a panther, then glanced up the rest of the way. She would have to clear the steps and walk around the railing to be level with him, and that would take more time. If he decided to turn around, she would be wide open and not even close to him. But, if she mantled the railing, she would be closer, and if she was fast enough…

Her grip tightened, and she jumped, pulling her weight up and over the railing with her arms. Her Loggos touched down with the softest _thip_ of rubber on metal as her legs bent to absorb the shock, but it was enough. The assassin whirled around just as she leaped forward, leg outstretched in a kick.

He was fast, she'd give him that much. He leaped back, her kick falling harmlessly between them as it lost forward speed, and then he spun and kicked in return. Faith had been expecting a counter attack, but the angle of it surprised her, as did the speed. She got her arm up just in time to block the brunt of it, but the heavily-treaded sneaker transferred a lot of force through to her skull.

He looked just like the PK Runners, the exception being the white suit beneath the armored vest, and he didn't have a belt of equipment. Faith couldn't read the steely blue eyes behind the mesh of his helmet and the mask beneath it. It could have been surprise, or it could have been something more primal.

Faith feinted a kick, then threw a punch, which the assassin blocked. She followed the exchange with a kick. She ducked beneath a swipe, landing a punch in a crack of the bulletproof weave. It was just enough to make him twitch, and she aimed next for his throat. The assassin leaned back, turning it into into a full blown backflip, effortlessly going from palms to feet like a gymnast. Whether or not the toe of his boot was intended for her chin, Faith had to skip back to avoid it.

She leaped forward again, swinging, but the assassin blocked her punch. Faith got her other arm up just as she saw his arm cock back, but didn't expect him to suddenly trap and pull her arm. The impact her nose made with the metal mesh made stars explode in her eyes, but not before she saw those cold, blue eyes from behind the mask narrow tersely. Even through her blurry, teary vision, she saw the gun suddenly materialize in his hand and ducked as the shot rang out.

As she ducked, she kicked. The heel of her foot hit hard on his thigh, enough to twist him a bit. Faith grabbed for the gun and tried to strip it away, but the assassin held onto it tightly. He jerked, then twisted, his leg sweeping out in a kick. She blocked it at the calf, then swung a fist, but the assassin was quick. As he tipped his head back, he suddenly stooped and spun tightly, leg coming up once more like a scorpion's tail. His foot clocked her right in the side of the head. In the exchange, the gun clattered free to the deck, but Faith knocked it away with a wild kick before he could recover it. It fell over the balcony to the deck below.

Then, unexpectedly, the assassin turned and ran.

Faith cursed, shaking her vision clear, then kicked to her feet and sprinted after him, the first few steps a still little shaky. He ducked through a hatch, moving into the interior of the ship. Every so often, he would bleed some speed to close a heavy hatch, but Faith had to spend an equal amount of time slowing down to push it back open. She banged an elbow on the narrow doorframe, but ignored the pain as he turned into a stairwell and moved down several levels

The assassin ran ahead, the corridor turning into a walkway above a carport, then hopped down another level. Faith vaulted the railing seconds after, smoothly rolling onto the roof of a truck below. He hit a switch next to the loading doors and slipped under a shutter as it began to lower. Faith cleared the first one, but had to slide beneath a second one on the other end of the passageway before it blocked her entirely. Just ahead, in the adjoining carport, the assassin took a few steps along the side of a trailer, jumping up to reach a storage shelf to grab a pipe and swing over to another balcony, all as effortlessly as a Runner. Faith stayed right behind him, earning precious seconds on his tail when he fumbled his landing.

The boat's bays were like a jungle gym; a cramped, narrow jungle gym, but each new passageway led to a new room, and a new way to move. First the assassin went up a level, then down, but Faith stayed on him the whole time, surrendering herself to whatever bits of the Flow she could see and follow. He turned down one last corridor and _leaped_ out of an opening in the hull, grabbing a thick anchoring line tethered to the boat. Faith followed after him, sailing over the short strip of water between the boat and dry ground. The coarse fiber of the line heated the leather of her glove to the point where it almost burned through to the skin.

He dropped to the gravel, then took off towards a row of containers. Faith was on the ground only moments later, but instead of following him, she vaulted off a small stack of crates, getting on top of the containers. A few rows in, she closed in on him, then jumped off, tackling him to the ground. Faith got an elbow in the gut that forced her to let go, and he was on his feet just as fast as she was.

She faked a punch, then swept her arm out and grabbed the mesh of his mask and yanked when he fell for the attack. It wasn't enough to pull it free, but it was more than enough to make him stumble. He threw a wild punch, but she ducked, stepping and locking his arm behind his back, then slammed him into a container, all the while pulling back on his mask. She wasn't quick enough to dodge the backwards headbutt entirely, but it only clipped her. The mask tugged free, a blonde ponytail falling out from it.

The assassin jerked, got a leg back, and kicked. It caught her right in the stomach, still tender from the elbow, and as she fell back, the mask came away in her hand. Faith found her footing, ready to dash forward—

—and suddenly she stopped, her muscles locking up. The blonde ponytail, the cold blue eyes…

"Cel?"

Celeste swallowed hard, her lip curling. It was her, standing there in the chalk-white jumpsuit, wearing a black PK vest, panting from the exertion of the running and fighting. A Runner. Her best friend. "Yeah, Faith. It's me. I tried to warn you off…but you're just too damn tenacious."

For a minute, it felt like she just stood there, like she had hit a Deadpoint and time had slowed down, only she was still panting in real time. It hadn't quite sunk in that Celeste was staring back, that it was Celeste who had just spoken. Her eyes had that same expression she saw earlier behind the wire mask, but she still didn't know what it was. Contempt, maybe, and with Celeste's piercing gaze, it felt like a slap.

There was only one thing Faith really could say. "Why?" The question felt stupid.

"Sorry." It was an empty apology, with acid-laced sarcasm. "But you need to learn how to let go, Faith. Remember? Like you did with your screwed-up family?" And then, just like that, there was a gun in her hand. There was no tell, no subtle gesture. She just stuck her hand forward, a barrel pointed right at her chest. Celeste was good at things like that. She had her cold, but she didn't shoot.

Faith didn't even see the gun. The anger had started to bubble up, her face growing hot. The feeling of betrayal had finally started to take a firm hold over her. Worse than it had been with Jacknife. She took a step forward. "Why?" she growled again.

"The Runners are _screwed_, Faith," Celeste snapped. "You think Icarus is all they have? It's just the start; just how they were planning to smoke us out. They have an entire army. It's a big city, but we can't keep hiding forever."

Faith took another step forward. Celeste raised the gun point-blank at her face. "So, you ratted us out, gave us up to CPF and PK to save your own skin? After everything Merc and Drake did to pull you out of juvie detention and help you survive—"

"I want to _live_, Faith!" Celeste cried. She sounded angry, but there was a hint of desperation in her voice. "Not just survive! Maybe that's good enough for you, but not for me. I'm sick of living on the rooftops, scrounging to get by day by day while waiting for the city to take me out!"

She could hear her own heart beating in her ears now. The whole time, it had been Celeste, and she never saw it. Was she that good of an actor? Or had Faith just trusted her to the point where she could never believe she was capable of something like that. But it all made sense: the PK ambushes along the routes, how the enforcers always seemed to be one step ahead, and how they almost waxed her at the mall. It had been Celeste. Celeste, pushing her to stop trying to save Kate, to just let go.

Faith almost lurched forward another step, her hands curling into fists, but Celeste tightened her hold on the gun. She stared past the barrel, into her former friend's eyes. "Why Pope? Why my sister? What the hell did they have to do with any of this?!"

"Pope's campaign was gaining unexpected support, but he got stupid," Celeste hissed. "More people were starting to consider voting for him after what happened in the Riots. Egotistical political trash…He started making threats to the wrong people, digging up secrets and thinking this was the peace marches all over again, that he could just rally a cause and get behind it. He thought the city could still be saved."

_Icarus. To the highest_. "He found out about Icarus," Faith realized. "That PK was breeding a private Runner army and intending to sell it 'to the highest bidder'…only he didn't know that the highest bidder was Callaghan. If Pope busted PK, they would be linked back to Callaghan…Pope wins the election. That's what he was writing about in his journal when you killed him."

Celeste gave an airy, amused snort. "Him or me…and I choose me over some damn politician any time." Her gaze flickered for a bit, but then returned to meet hers coldly. "Sorry about Kate." This time, it sounded a little more genuine, but it was followed by the sound of a gun's hammer being drawn back. "Didn't know she was your sis—"

A beam of red light suddenly wavered between them, and then a gunshot rang out. Faith jerked, but Celeste hadn't fired. A split second later, automatic weapons opened up, peppering the containers they were standing between with deadly lead. She caught glimpses of armored enforcers between containers.

Their laser sights tracked everywhere, and the rounds ricocheted just as widespread. The initial volley of gunfire turned to a broken chatter as the gunners shot at any shadow that moved. Faith dropped to the ground, scrabbling in the dusty gravel for something to get behind. Bits of hot lead from shattered bullets and broken stone stung her bare skin like wasps. She caught a glimpse of Celeste doing the same, equally washed under a sea of targeting lasers. It didn't look like PK was concerned about her well being, but for once, she didn't care.

Something metal bounced off the roof of the container she ducked behind, landing on the gravel at her feet with a dull _plop._ A hand grenade. She cried out, kicked at it, then scrambled to get on her feet. The bullets somehow missed her as she dove behind a low dark shape, hoping it would be enough to keep her alive.

It must have landed next to something flammable, because the initial detonation felt like a kick to the chest, but then another explosion sounded, this one accompanied by heat and fire. Smoke engulfed the air, filling her lungs with every breath as she looked for a way out. The containers were stacked like a maze, and down each direction was either a pool of fire and black smoke, or a web of bobbing lasers.

She looked back, but didn't see Celeste. Everything was scorched and shredded or on fire. Coughing, she picked a direction, the one with the least amount of fire. She heard pops in her ringing ears, but it was impossible to tell if it was the fire, or someone shooting at her. The heat threatened to fry her skin, but some of the smoke was clearing, enough to see that the way ahead was clear. Faith stumbled on her feet, but worked into a sprint, the sound of fire and the crackle of radio slowly fading behind her as she ran.

* * *

><p>Time did that funny slow down thing again once the docks were behind her. Faith ambled along the street, not really caring that the neighborhoods near the docks were known to be shit. The shock of the explosion had worn off, but grit and dirt still marred her clothes and skin, and the shock of betrayal still held firm. Had Celeste really been a traitor from the start of the whole thing? Was her smile and friendship just a few days ago as they trained on the rooftops completely fake? She would never know. Not that she wanted to, anyway.<p>

Faith raised a finger to her ear. She'd left her earpiece on open channel the whole time. "Merc, you can stop pretending to listen in." Her voice was barely above a croak.

He didn't answer at first. Faith thought the earpiece might have broken in the explosion and the chaos, but then he spoke. Heavily. "_Heard all I need to hear, kiddo…is she…?_"

"Dunno, probably. There was an explosion. Didn't see her come out. The bitch deserved it." She never thought she'd ever speak so callously of Celeste. It almost didn't sound like she was hearing her own voice.

Merc was quiet for a bit after that, but then he sighed. "_Listen Faith,_ _I know you don't need this right now, but I just heard from Kreeg. Kate's just been tried._"

Kate. Her sister seemed so far away right now. "Already?" she asked faintly. "It's only been a couple of days."

"_Wonders of the swift justice program, huh? They found her guilty, Faith._"

Faith gave an airy laugh. She wasn't sure what was so funny; that Merc was maybe holding out that Kate would get away with being not-guilty through some legal loophole, or that he thought that _she_ was thinking the same thing.

"Well of course they did, Merc. Of course they did…"

The city had just put a gun to Kate's head and pulled the hammer back. They needed to get to her before the trigger was pulled.


	23. Crossroads

**Crossroads**

So that was it then. Guilty.

Miller wasn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe there was a part of him that was still thinking that the justice system would work, and Kate would get away completely innocent, or at least not guilty, but it was pretty naïve of him. The evidence was stacked against her almost perfectly; just enough credibility to be plausible, just enough doubt to make it seem legitimate. No, if it had gone to the courts, then whoever wanted Kate arrested would have made sure she was guilty through whatever corrupt means they could.

He wanted to attend the trial but Captain Briggs made it clear that if he went anywhere near the courthouse, he'd be turning in his badge. The same went for Moreno and Bradley, or just about any other CPF officer at the fourteenth precinct. Pirandello/Kruger had been watching him carefully all afternoon and evening. There wasn't a place he could go where he wasn't in sight of one of the enforcers.

So, he caught the verdict through the radio. At least nobody seem to stop him from doing that. Even if he hadn't, it was all over the news bulletins anyway; CEC had been broadcasting the story almost non-stop when Kate was arrested. There probably wasn't a single person in the city who didn't know that Kate Connors was guilty, and equally as many didn't know that it was all a setup.

This was endgame, and that realization rocked his core a little bit more as he went through what was going to happen. Kate had been sentenced, and she would spend the night in lockup one last time. Tomorrow she would be shipped off to the county jail, processed, and imprisoned. With the kind of thugs that were in there, she didn't have much chance. It would be brutal, and it would be terrifying for her. Not a way for a cop, let alone anyone, to go out.

He retreated to his office, shutting the door behind him to get out of the hustling operations room, and then ran his hands over his face. It was getting to the point where PK enforcers outnumbered CPF officers almost two to one, and it had only been a few days. At this rate, the entire precinct would be under their jurisdiction in a week, and CPF would be the backseat riders. Right now, he just needed to be alone with his thoughts.

He removed his sidearms from their holsters and dropped them onto the blotter of his desk. He hadn't eaten much that day, but he pulled out his bottle of whiskey again and sank into his chair, pouring a glass. It was going to hit him hard and fast on an empty stomach. The pull he had taken that morning felt like weeks ago, but maybe that was just how it felt since Kate had been tried and sentenced so quickly. Never mind the example he'd be setting to the officers under him; the silver shield on his breast pocket hardly felt like it carried weight anymore.

_So this is how it ends_, he thought to himself after a hot sip, _I devolve into a tired old cop under a new system, drinking regularly on the job._ That was assuming, of course, that he would keep this job for any length of time.

After that, he could see a few possibilities. Another job, early retirement – if he had the money – or maybe he would just sink into depression and off himself one evening. It happened to cops in the past. They were options he could follow, at least. Not another dead end that would just turn him away like with Kate's trial. He snorted at the thought and took another drink.

The more he thought and the more he drank, his thoughts drifted back to Faith. It was a safe bet that she knew about her sister's sentence by now. What could she do? What _would_ she do?

And it was in that moment that he realized the answer: _everything_. Faith would do _everything_ to save Kate. She would go against the CPF, against Ropeburn, against PK. She had snuck into a crime scene, fled police, stole evidence, all to try and help her, and even risked coming to see him in person in the middle of a police precinct. Faith was doing a lot more than he was…

He glanced down at his weapons on the desk. If just sat there and let Kate take the fall, how was he even going to get up in the morning?

A knock sounded at his door, making him jump. The door cracked open, and Moreno stuck her head in. "Boss, got a minute?"

Miller shook his haze away and waved her in, but he couldn't hide the weight in his voice. "What is it, Moreno?"

She hesitated before speaking, eyeing the bottle of liquor on his desk, then his guns. "It's getting late." she said. "Aren't you even going to try and go to the courthouse?"

"Not much point in wasting time," he replied with a shrug. "The trial's over. PK would probably throw us out before we made it past the lobby, and if we're lucky, we'd only get a suspension from Briggs. What's done is done."

The resignation in his voice sounded authentic, to the point where he almost thought it might be real, but it was the truth. There wasn't anything they could do at the moment.

"Not going to stop me from trying." Moreno contested. She glanced at the whiskey bottle again, then back to him. "They just can't shut us out."

Miller _hmphed_ as he lifted to sip his drink. "Is this your way of telling me that I'm going to have to bail you out again tonight?"

Normally, she would have grinned, maybe even laughed at his jab. Instead, this time she crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Only if you're sober enough."

He paused before setting the glass down, but didn't meet her gaze. The normal thing to do would have been to reprimand her for talking to a superior like that. Even Moreno couldn't get away with something like that. She'd be expecting that though.

Instead, he took another drink. "My hands are tied. We have nothing. The harder you fight, the more it will reflect negatively on Kate."

Moreno actually growled. She stepped forward and slammed her hands on his desk, glaring at him. "So you're just going to sit here and do nothing while she gets shanked at County tomorrow evening?! You think that's negative enough?"

Miller pursed his lips, but held his temper. Or, in Moreno's eyes, _appeared_ to hold his temper. "Watch your tone, Moreno, and consider your options. What can you possibly do to help Kate right now?" She wasn't usually the type to think things through carefully, but Moreno was far from incompetent. She opened her mouth, then closed it with another glare. Miller gave a small _hm_ through his nose. "Exactly."

She combed back her short black hair with a frustrated sigh. "So you're just going to sit here all night and drink while she sits in a holding cell tonight? After all the years she put in with us? She looks up to you, Miller—"

"I'm going to sit here and do what I need to do," he corrected. He finally met her eyes; he'd never seen them that angry before. "And so will you."

"Oh yeah, and what's that?"

"Serve, protect. _Do your job_. The deeper you dig yourself into this, the more likely it is you'll wind up like Kate. Now go take a walk, cool your head, and go back to being a cop."

At his dismissal, her cheek and lip turned up, almost into a snarl. For a minute, her eyes went dark and glassy, but she turned and stomped out of the room. She muttered "_cabrón_" just loud enough for him to hear before slamming the door behind her.

Miller sighed. He'd pissed her off. Good. That meant she'd stew over thinking what an asshole he was instead of thinking of Kate. Maybe she'd even go and vent with Bradley and distract him too, get drunk and take a sick day tomorrow. Maybe he even convinced her that he had been bought out by PK. Maybe she would just distance herself from him for a while.

There were too many 'maybes'. If there was a guaranteed way of keeping Moreno out of the big picture of things, he would have taken it, but the only way he knew was to work her up a bit. It was taking a gamble; she might pick a fight and wind up in worse trouble, but it was one he had to take.

He tipped the contents of the glass down his throat, draining it in one burning gulp. Yes, he had made his decision. If this was endgame, it was time to go all in.


	24. Kate Part 1

**Kate (Part 1)**

Faith was out of time.

The shock of Celeste – _her best friend_ – betraying them and dying in the span of minutes still cycled through her mind over and over again. She didn't know what she should feel. She was glad, happy, angry, and sad all at once. Celeste couldn't just be erased from her mind. Not after the years of running, danger, and memories. _Celeste was a backstabbing bitch_, she told herself, why should she feel pity? _But she had been her friend_. _But was her friendship genuine?_ Where did the lies begin and the truth end? It threatened to eat her apart from the inside out.

The only thing Faith could do was run, like she always had, and try to lose herself in the Flow. Even then, it was impossible. She was running to save Kate, not to clear her head. Thinking of Kate made her think of Celeste. There was no way to distract her from anything; it was all tied together in the end.

Exhaustion tugged at her arms and legs like dead weight. There had been no time to rest, eat, or even scrub her face clean of the grime from the fire and explosion. By the time she had picked up the pieces of what used to be her life the night before in the docks, morning was already setting in. Dawn became rush hour, rush hour started pushing lunchtime as she cleared rooftop after rooftop, checking her back after each one for pursuers or a helicopter.

"_Heads up Faith, the drop site should be right ahead. Find the bag and get moving. We don't have a lot of time here._"

Merc was redirecting her to a drop site just off her current course. He was sporadically checking in to correct her route or see if she was okay, but he was too busy to tell her _why_ she was going to a drop site. Whenever she heard his voice, he was brief and to the point, and when she tried to cut in, he had already switched frequencies. What little she did get from him was that he and Drake were calling in about a dozen favors, part of a plan to bust Kate free.

She cleared the next gap between rooftops, then scanned the area, spotting the small square tag tucked low on the frame of a solar panel. The drop site was on the roof somewhere, but she didn't know where exactly. Whoever left it there last time wouldn't have stashed it in plain sight, so she checked nooks, crannies, and just about everywhere out of the way. After five minutes, she found it stuffed beneath an air conditioner, the yellow waterproof weave damp from dripping condensation.

"Merc what's…whoa," she trailed off when she unzipped the bag. Ammunition. _High caliber_ ammunition. There were four boxes of it, and it looked like each round was about the length of her hand. Not something you loaded into a handgun. More like something you used to punch through armor. "What's this for?"

"_Drake's got Kreeg setting up to ambush the convoy that's transporting Kate,_" Merc said. "_We're running short on time. Kreeg's got the rifle, but you need to get the ammo to him_."

"Just Kreeg?" she asked dubiously. She liked Kreeg and knew he was capable, but he was just one guy.

"_Drake's calling in Trance and Jace too, but they're still en route. Look, it's not much of a plan, but we're working on hours here, not days. Find Kreeg, he's moving to the new CCC building that went up last month. Cut through Looking Glass Gardens, it's the fastest._"

Her earpiece clicked as he changed frequencies again. Faith grimaced, but cinched the bag over her shoulder so that it clung close to the small of her back. The weight of it felt heavier than normal; she never remembered toting ammunition, let alone this kind, around before. Whatever this plan was, it sounded like having to shoot through a tank, and she didn't like it. But, she didn't have anything else, which meant she'd take it.

She started moving again, eventually passing through the low-income housing of the docks and into slightly better neighborhoods that rimmed the inner city, finally coming to Look Glass Gardens. The district was a newer part of the East Side reserved for expensive condos and high-rise apartments. Runners usually had no reason to hang around unless it was to cut through. Like the name implied, most of the buildings were glossed in a mirror-finish, framed in shiny chrome and reflective metal. A lot of security, too. If you lived there, you probably had a six-figure salary or higher. Otherwise, you'd be out in the suburbs. She did a quick landmark check; it put her just south of the City Commerce Center building by a couple of city blocks.

She paused to tug the laces of her Loggos tightly, then tested the weight of the bag again and broke off into a brisk sprint. The route in the Flow she picked up wasn't bad, but the bag made things a little harder to navigate. She didn't have the mass like Merc, Kreeg, or any of the other male Runners to keep her balanced. It felt like it slowed her down, even if it wasn't by much. A giddiness was starting to overtake her, like she was in a dream being held back. Faith focused to try and stay calm so that her breathing wouldn't suffer. She was already running on empty, and if she drove herself into the ground, that's when she would truly lose Kate.

She focused so hard that they almost caught her off guard when they attacked.

There was a scuffle of a shoe on concrete that could have been a hard turn or the beginning of a jump. It wasn't an unfamiliar sound, but she was alone, and it hadn't come from her. She looked up just in time to see a dark green blur blot out the sun.

"_Shit,_" she swore. She shifted her weight in mid-stride, changing her speed and direction. It was too sudden to be anything graceful, but she managed to tuck into a forward roll as the blur landed right where she had just been. When she righted herself, the PK Runner was already sprinting towards her, and then he leaped and threw a kick.

It could have been one of the Runners she encountered at the PK facility, or it could have been a different one. He looked identical, like a clone fresh off an assembly line, right down to the badge pinned lazily on his armor. The only thing that set him aside was that he was too damn careless.

Faith dodged the kick, sweeping her arm out in a knife-hand at his throat as he passed by. It connected, but the chin of his mask caught most of the blow. Faith felt it resonate up her entire arm. Her attack was enough to clothesline him and knock him flat on his back, but once again, his helmet absorbed most of the shock. She leaped away as he spun on the ground, kicking at her leg.

He was back on his feet in a flash, and they exchanged viciously. Faith blocked a pair of punches, and then countered with her own. She spied an opening and took it, landing a punch in a gap of his vest. It was enough to stun him long enough draw her leg in and kick. The heel of her Loggo connected with the wire mesh of his mask, and the kick itself knocked him back and slammed him against the outside of a roof access shed. He might have had protective gear, but it could only do so much against brute force. The Runner went down hard—

—and two more suddenly dropped down in front of her.

Faith cursed and stumbled back, the switch from fight to flight tangling her legs as the heavy bag tugged awkwardly on her balance. She nearly fell, but managed to turn into a sprint towards the edge of the roof. A tazer popped, the coiled wire and barbs sailing wide over her shoulder and chattering menacingly as they passed.

Looking Glass Gardens was navigable, but it quickly became obvious that she wasn't going to lose them on a route toting a bag of ammunition over her shoulder. The two PK Runners easily kept up with her, no matter what she cleared or moved around, and her added weight wasn't going to give her any kind of boost in speed or agility. They had the skill and speed…but, as she remembered, they might still not have the guts, at least not yet.

Faith landed on the next building and immediately took off towards the center of the rooftop. The building continued to rise about another three stories, but some light renovations were being done. A scaffold was set up, marring the neat and pristine mirrored glass exterior. Even without the aid of the reflection in the windows ahead, the scuffle of rubber and fabric behind her told her that the two Runners were still hot on her heels.

She scaled the scaffolding as quickly as she could. It shook as their weight hit it just after hers, but she moved vertically just as smoothly as horizontally. When she reached the top, automatic orientation took over. Faith turned and sprinted hard for the edge of the roof she needed. If she was wrong, or had misjudged the distance earlier…

She jumped off, tucking her legs up in a traditional track leap. There was speed, Deadpoint, and then falling. Just below her was the tarp she spotted earlier when she cleared the rooftop. There was no way of knowing what was underneath it, or whether it would cushion her fall or break half the bones in her body, but being a Runner meant taking risks.

The split second sensation of _not-going-to-make-it _passed as she cleared the street. It was a long jump and an equally long fall of about two and a half stories, but she cleared the lip of the tarp by a matter of feet, letting her legs sag so her body took the shock. Something wooden broke beneath her, the impact a little harder than she would have liked. Whatever was underneath the tarp was rigid, rough edges stabbing at her back and hips. Pain shot up her thigh upon impact, but her gasp was lost in the sound of the fall.

Trying to tuck the pain away in the back of her mind, Faith jerked her head up, ready to move out of the way of a pursuer, but they didn't follow. One of the Runners was at the edge, the other just skidding to a halt next to him. _Not big on heights, huh, _she thought to herself behind a grimace of pain. _Then get off the damn tops_.

The two Runners eyed her for a second, their expressions clouded by their masks, the distance, and the glare of the sun; she was only happy to glare back, daring them to follow. One of them lifted a hand to the side of his head as if consulting a radio earpiece, and then the two broke off and headed parallel down the street. They might not be able to follow her across, but they could go around.

She clamored off the tarp, fingering her ear. "Merc, those PK Runners just showed up. I managed to shake them for now, but I think they're trying to tail me."

"_Ugh, shit,_" Merc swore, at the same time sounding distracted. "_You're less than three blocks from Kreeg. They're too close. Try to lose 'em, I'll see if Kreeg can reposition._"

Just because there were only two of them didn't mean there weren't a dozen more PK Runners combing the entire district. The success of their plan hinged on being able to surprise CPF while they were moving Kate. Even if they could evade the PK Runners, it would disrupt everything, and their chances would be screwed.

Faith slipped off the tarp, wincing as she landed on the ground. The pain was low and dull, running all the way up her thigh. It didn't feel like a pulled muscle, but she _definitely_ had hurt something. After half a hop and testing her weight, she figured she could take it, then hiked the bag on her shoulder and started moving. The pain settled to a throb; enough to slow her down a little, but not enough to be a burden.

She had lost sight of her two pursuers. After moving down the length of the street, they had disappeared around the block. She cut through the building, taking the stairwell to gain a few floors. They probably knew that while they couldn't follow her, she had limited herself to one path. Getting some extra elevation would hopefully slow down the PK Runners, but as she kicked open a locked stairwell door, she caught sight of them already moving onto the adjoining rooftop. The CCC building was now visible, half-shielded behind the building in front of her.

It was either turn back and try to lose them and risk missing Kate's convoy, or somehow engage them both and shake them off within one city block, and there was no way she could take both of them on at the same time. The options sucked, so Faith decided to take the third option: push her already over-stretched luck.

"_Kreeg's going to set up _inside_ the CCC Building_." Merc was back in a quick burst of static. "_Not the best we can do, but it'll have to do. Seventh floor. Move it, Faith._"

She hopped off the rooftop and onto the next one. The PK Runners landed at almost the same time on the other side and immediately sprinted straight for her. Faith turned and ran, her shaky plan already coming together. The building in front of the CCC Building had a row of air conditioners and piping that ran parallel to the rooftop. Beyond that, on the corner of the building, there was what appeared to be a crane, its elevator stopped halfway up the boom. The distance to it was insane, even for a Runner.

She didn't even think about slowing down. The next thing she knew, she was sprinting, then jumping. The gap between the buildings yawned below her as she cleared the gap. She wasn't jumping to a solid platform; just a small outcropping of mounted machinery below a multi-story drop. One loose screw might send her plummeting.

The unit groaned under her weight and actually _shifted,_ but it held. Faith ground her jaw as she worked to stay poised on it. She jumped to the next one, trying to build up the speed she so desperately needed. The gap between the AC units and the construction elevator was long, too long, but she jumped anyway, stepping alongside the building.

Most Runners could get about three steps into a wall-run. After that, gravity usually won. Faith managed to squeeze in four harrowing steps that seemed to defy the law of gravity, and on her last one, she pushed off and up, trying to get as much distance out of the jump as she could.

The landing was anything but smooth. She hit the roof of the metal elevator arms and legs careening with a loud hollow _thud_. As soon as she registered the impact, and before the pain came, she focused on stopping any remaining speed that might have made her overshoot. It all happened in the blink of an eye, but she managed to stop herself from bouncing off, her ankles dangling precariously over the edge.

Blinking away the stars, she saw the PK Runners still on the other rooftop. It was like déjà vu from only minutes ago. One of them tilted his head and consulted his radio, though this time it seemed a little longer, and the two of them took off again. Knowing she had to move fast, Faith hopped off the elevator, jumping to the crane's suspended low just below her, and from there, was able to make it to a low balcony on the CCC Building. Merc had said Kreeg would be on the seventh floor; her little maneuver put her down another five, almost to street level.

The ebb of adrenaline was already starting to wear off as she kicked open the door and moved inside. It was a weekend, most of the building technically closed, so the elevators were offline. The stairwell doors were locked too. As she trekked further into the building, she came upon the second floor atrium, a massive vertical hall that stretched up half the length of the building. It wasn't complete yet, a network of scaffolding, platforms, and materials stretching up as far as she could see.

"_Faith, what the hell is taking so long?_" Merc said impatiently. "_GPS_ _says you're almost ground level, and you've got about twenty minutes, tops_."

Faith's eyes flitted from scaffold to scaffold. She let the Flow trace itself higher and higher. There was movement to be had in that cluster of bars, metal, and wood. The only question was if she could do it in time.

"Tell Kreeg I'm coming," she said. "Just gotta climb up."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Hi everyone. Sorry for my slow updating. In the past 1-2 months, I've underwent a cross-country move and started my career. It's made writing difficult, though I knew I was going to have trouble with the first part of Kate from the beginning. I'm pretty confident though that the second half should be a little easier to write, as should chapters beyond that. If anyone notices anything glaringly wrong with this chapter please let me know. Some things might have slipped through my checks.<strong>

**I've been receiving lots of notifications about favorites and alerts, so I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for that. Rest assured, updates will be slow, and it may seem like I've lost interest, but I _will_ finish this story, so I hope that you all continue to enjoy.  
><strong>


	25. Kate Part 2

**Kate (Part 2)**

Even if she was exhausted with the early stages of fear and exhaustion, and panic starting to nip at the edge of her mind, there was something oddly soothing about the climb up the atrium.

Maybe it was the ease of the Flow, or how the network of scaffolds and half-built frames let her pick almost any way to move upwards, or maybe it was just the lack of someone chasing her – for the moment, at least. Faith could have almost closed her eyes and just let herself move anywhere, as long as it didn't stop.

But as relaxing as it might have sounded, painful reality kept reminding her that this wasn't a casual weekend afternoon with no jobs to do. Each rung of the scaffolding she vaulted, every platform she mantled was an effort against gravity, and her energy was quickly reaching its limit. Every foot she gained was an extra foot to fall if she slipped. Still, she pushed herself to keep moving. She wasn't just climbing to get to Kreeg she told herself; she was climbing to get to Kate. She kept telling herself that Kate was at the top, that all she had to do was reach her to save her. It gave her the drive to push on.

She reached the top of another scaffold. This was the second one, and she wasn't even halfway up the atrium yet. Moving was easy, but she had to constantly zigzag back and forth across the constructs to get altitude, like a road winding up a mountain. Fortunately, she didn't need to get to the very top. Just above a pair of concrete supports that stretched horizontally across the atrium was the eighth floor balcony, which led to Kreeg on the floor below via the ventilation system.

Faith leaped across the atrium, pushing off a section of wall that had a Callaghan Construction tarp draped over it. The subtle irony that the mayor's construction projects were helping her was not lost in the back of her mind. She didn't know him personally, only that his policies pushed the city to where it was today, and she found herself asking if he really was behind everything. Celeste had made it out to be a political struggle, but had that even been true? She'd had her at cold at gunpoint; what would be the point of telling her the truth?

Celeste. She had slipped her mind for a bit, but came back in a flood of emotion. _Dammit, focus,_ Faith warned herself as she nearly carried herself over the edge after landing on one of the concrete supports. A few stories stretched dizzily beneath her as she pinwheeled her arms backward to rebalance her weight. She needed to be focusing on Kate, not some charred corpse that used to call itself her friend, or the city's corrupt mayor.

She swallowed hard after the lapse in concentration, then made the last jump to the eighth floor balcony with ease. The ventilation shaft was just ahead of her, partially hidden by a stack of crates left over from the construction that continued to move vertically. She cleared the way, kicked the grating in, then chucked the bag of ammo in first before following after it.

The crawl through the cool dark vents was thankfully kept short with Merc pointing her in the right direction. Faith only had to take a few twists and turns and one drop, pushing the bag ahead of her all the while. It led to an office in the middle of some renovations, which, despite the plastic tarps and construction supplies, looked to belong to some middle to higher executive. Kreeg was setting up a large rifle when she kicked through the grate and dropped into the room. He had dragged one of the sawhorses to the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the streets below. One of them had been propped open, letting in a fresh breeze.

He was just mounting a large telescopic scope on it when he noticed her, then wiped his hands and straightened from his crouch. "Hey, you got the ammo?"

"Yeah." She unslung the bag from her shoulder and tossed it to him. "Any trouble?"

"No. No sighting of those Icarus guys on my end. You shake 'em?"

"More or less, but I don't think we should stick around longer than we have to." Faith caught her breath while he opened the bag, pulled one of the boxes out and then started feeding individual rounds into the rifle's clip. Faith eyed it again. It looked like she had made an accurate guess based on the ammunition. It wasn't just an ordinary rifle; it looked like it could stop a tank. "So, could you maybe fill me in on what exactly we're doing here?" she asked warily, not taking her eyes off the gun. "Merc really didn't have the time to explain."

Kreeg continued to fill the clip, but it didn't take him long to finish. The rounds were so big that only a handful could fit in. "Standard CPF protocol indicates that they'll move Kate by convoy. That means one armored van and an escort, at least. I wouldn't be surprised if they brought more in this case, though. If they do, that will complicate things." He moved to the window and pointed across the street, the clip still in his hand. Down below, a few pedestrians moved up and down the sidewalks, some light traffic waiting at the intersection for the lights to change. "Drake and Merc were able to ping the route down Fifth Avenue a few minutes ago."

Which is where they were right now, Faith realized. So they were going to ambush it. She glanced first at Kreeg, then the rifle again. "Uh…this isn't going to hurt Kate, is it?"

He grinned a bit darkly, then fed the clip into the gun and chambered a round. "This is an anti-material rifle. I got some experience with them while I was in the Corps. Van's going to be armored, so I need something that will punch through it, otherwise we'd be better off chucking rocks. One of these rounds should be able to take out the engine, easy."

She liked the idea of Kreeg shooting anywhere _near_ Kate even less, but she would just have to trust him. After Celeste, that notion was harder to swallow than usual. "Alright, so let's say you manage to stop the convoy, then what? CPF just going to let Kate walk away from the wreck?" That was assuming Kate was able to walk afterwards…

He indicated across the street again, only this time higher, somewhere in the buildings that lined the intersection they were overlooking. "Jace and Trance just arrived. The hope is to get the CPF convoy right underneath them. They're packing some smoke, teargas, some non-lethal riot stuff that Drake had laying around. If we can cause a commotion and keep the escorting officers disoriented, it should be enough for you to slip in and break Kate free."

At least she knew how she fit into the plan now. If Jace and Trance ran interference, she might be able to slip into the mess, grab Kate, and slip back out and get away. It comforted her a little that she was going to be the one to get to Kate, but it was a small comfort among a myriad of 'what ifs' that started to run through her head.

Kreeg suddenly tipped his head, then touched his earpiece and listened. He adjusted the rifle, deploying a bipod at the end of the forearm and peered down the scope, working a dial on it. "That was Merc. Convoy's getting close. Listen, take the skywalk down the hall and get across the street, down to street level. I'll give you the signal to move in." When she bit her lip and grimaced, he glanced at her. Kreeg might have been one of the tougher Runners, but it didn't mean he couldn't pick up human emotion. "Worried about Kate?"

Faith sighed and nodded. "I don't want to say 'don't screw this up', but…"

"I'd say the same if I was in your situation," he replied. "We're going to be working on a lot of luck, the element of surprise, and not a lot of skill or planning. I won't take it personally."

She could either stand there and say something she would later regret and possibly even distract him, or just let him try to help. Faith decided on the latter, since the former wouldn't do anything for her sister. With just a request that he tell Merc to patch her into the CPF channel he was tapped into, she left Kreeg to tweak the sights on his gun and moved into the adjoining hall.

Skywalks were a common design in the city, but they were almost always too low to the ground to be of any use to a Runner. Faith figured that had it been a weekday, it might have been full of people using it to navigate from building to building. Today, however, it was completely empty. Like Kreeg had said, they were working on luck; any extra civilian foot traffic would have made things impossible.

The building next door was also full of offices, not quite as tall as the CCC building, but it still had a sprawling atrium that rose high above the street. To rest her muscles for what came next, Faith opted to take the stairs down to the first floor to a small inner balcony above the foyer. The front of the foyer had a large set of glass windows and doors that gave her a perfect view to the street. That put Kreeg to her right in the CCC building, and Jace and Trance either directly above her or across the street. Or both; hopefully not knowing that wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass.

She didn't have much time to rest. As soon as she hunkered down, her earpiece sizzled. "_Convoy one-three, dispatch. Still no problems, over?_"

"_Dispatch, this is convoy one-three. Traffic's light, and we're moving. Connor's still secure. Things are smooth, over._"

"_Copy that._"

Faith listened intently to the exchange. It sounded like CPF wasn't aware that she had been spotted in the area, which meant that the PK Runner's hadn't relayed it to them, and that seemed odd. If they suspected anything, they wouldn't stick to the same convoy route. She felt a cold trickle down her spine; was this whole thing a trap just to draw her and the other Runners out?

"_Guys, stand by._" It was Kreeg. "_I see the convoy. They just turned the corner and are coming right for you._"

Her aching muscles tightened in anticipation. No turning back from this point on. It was either everything, or nothing.

From her vantage point, she could see everything shake down as it unfolded, and her heart began to pick up speed. Knowing that the ambush was coming, but not exactly was almost like a form of torture. She silently prayed that Kreeg hadn't lost any of his marksmanship from his days in the Marines.

The CPF armored van came into view through the windows. Traffic was light, and it was moving the speed limit, but it seemed to be going by in the blink of an eye. There was just enough time to see the following squad car behind it before she heard Kreeg fire.

The shot seemed far louder than what she had been shot _at_ with the past few days, and rightly so. It all happened so fast, she didn't even see any damage on the van, and feared that he had missed. But then the van suddenly accelerated wildly and jerked hard towards the curb. There was a roar of noise as it bumped up onto the side walk. The heavy vehicle, probably not designed for any kind of tight angles, careened and tipped over hard in a shower of sparks. Momentum turned it over onto its roof before it skid to a halt, knocking over a traffic light.

"_Jesus, Kreeg!_" she heard herself shriek, even though there was no way he could have controlled how the van crashed after he shot it. All she could think about was her sister being bounced and beaten around into a pulp as it came to rest.

The squad car following the van had swerved hard to avoid crashing into the rear of it, but the driver had been too slow to react. It clipped the van as it overturned and spun out before crumpling into a streetlamp, blocking the intersection. Traffic immediately began to pile up behind and ahead of the scene with angry honks, onlookers gathering on the sidewalks.

At that moment, an object fell into the intersection from above her field of vision. A billowing line of smoke began to trail from it. Then another fell, and then another. The smoke, or gas, or whatever Jace and Trance were lobbing to the street below quickly spread everywhere. It worked just like Kreeg said. People immediately began to push and shove their way out of the area, abandoning their cars and clogging the streets.

The squad car doors opened. The driver was in a CPF uniform, but the passenger was wearing the black PK threads. Both had guns drawn, but there was another loud shot from above, and the cruiser's lights exploded into fragments. The last thing Faith saw as the smoke and gas thickened was both of them hunkering down for cover behind the wrecked car, siren blaring.

"_Faith, now or never!_" snapped Kreeg. Faith snapped out of her stupor, vaulting to the foyer floor and pushed through the building's front doors.

As soon as she was outside, the acrid scent of smoke and something else hit her nostrils. It burned to breathe, and her eyes and nose watered. She threw her arm up over her nose to at least siphon the teargas as she sprinted to the van. The back door opened up, and the tip of an assault rifle nosed out, followed by the PK enforcer carrying it. She was on him long before he realized what was happening. She grabbed for his gun, tugged it down, then shoved hit back up, thrusting the butt into his chin, then swung her elbow hard across his face, sending him to the ground.

She held onto the weapon long enough to make sure that no one else was coming out of the van, then peered inside. Her blood ran cold when she saw a limp form lying on the floor in a CPF uniform, which was actually the van's ceiling.

"Shit, Kate," Faith crawled into the van and shook her sister's shoulder. For a painful moment, there was no response from her, but then she stirred and groaned. "Hey, c'mon, wake up." The wail of sirens had begun to drift through the commotion outside.

Kate rolled over, her eyes wandering but slowly starting to track. A small cut dribbled a line of blood from her forehead. "Faith…what?"

"Easy, I'm getting you out," she said as gently as she could, but all the while tugging insistently on her upper arm, "but we need to go, _now_." Knowing she was alive, and simply for the sake of seeing her again, Faith wanted to hold her close, but they were working on less time than they needed.

First she tried to help Kate get to her feet, then realized that her wrists and ankles were both cuffed and shackled. "Escort has keys," Kate murmured, putting a hand to her head to feel the cut. "Ugh, my head…"

Faith moved back to the unconscious enforcer outside, breathing in the noxious combination of smoke and gas and checked his belt for a key. It took her a minute, but she found a small ring of them, and then it took another minute to find which one opened Kate's restraints. New sirens were already audible from up the street, but she was more worried about the van's driver and if he had a passenger. They hadn't been accounted for yet, and she could only hope that they were out cold from the crash.

"Can't believe you're doing all this," Kate muttered as she finished releasing the last cuff around her ankle.

"Hey, you're my sister. I don't think you want to know what I _would_ do if I had to." And she meant it.

She hooked her arm over her shoulder, her other arm wrapped around her waist, then helped pull her from the back of the van. Kate coughed as the gas hit her, but she managed to stand on her own two feet. The street was almost completely deserted by now, save for a thick fog of smoke. The squad car's siren was still wailing, and she heard the crackle of a radio. From the CCC building, there was another loud _bang_, and the car's siren fizzled out completely with a faint shower of sparks barely visible through the fog.

The sirens grew louder exponentially. Faith thought it was the smoke and her tearing eyes, but then she realized she was seeing blue lights reflecting off the buildings from around the corner.

"Shit, they're already here." She pressed her earpiece, "Kreeg!"

"_Had to bug out!_" It sounded like he was running, and fast. "_Two of them just showed up._"

Faith whirled to face Kate. She was coughing into the back of her hand, still favoring the cut on her head. In that instant, she made a decision she knew Merc would kill her for. She slipped her earpiece off and pushed it into Kate's hand. "Take this." Kate stared at it for a second. "His name is Merc," she explained, "He's a friend. He can guide you away from here."

"But, what about you?" she asked.

"I'm going to lead them away from here." It was a stupid idea, but with Kate's condition, there was no way both of them were going to escape together.

"Effie, are you nuts?" Kate cried.

"Kate, I'm not going to argue with you," Faith snapped. The sirens were almost on top of them now, and blue lights reflecting off the building windows were abundant. "Just go, please."

Kate held her ground, clutching the earpiece in her fist. To Faith's surprise, she stepped forward and threw her arms around her in a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered. Faith felt the tremor in her breath on her neck.

"I'll see you soon," she said tenderly, hoping she could keep the promise. "Just go."

Kat broke off and ran down a side alley in a medium jog. As she did, she stuffed the earpiece in, then disappeared around the corner. Faith coughed and looked down the street, waiting for that moment for the CPF and PK cruisers to come peeling around the corner. She had to make sure they saw her. Then they arrived. First one, then two, three, four squad cars, lights and sirens blaring. And more continued to come.

Faith waited a few more precious seconds, standing there next to the wrecked van, then turned and sprinted as fast as she could. In the opposite direction of Kate.


	26. Mercury

**Mercury**

"_See it yet?_"

Kate stopped a few paces from the edge of the roof, panting hard. The cool night air was starting to burn in her throat and lungs. Being a cop required that she be fit, and she had handled some pretty intense tests of her endurance with relative ease, but sprinting from downtown and jumping from rooftop to rooftop was something she never even dreamed of doing.

She fiddled with the earpiece, finding the transmit switch. "Um, no, I don't think so. It's too dark."

All she could see was the edge of the next roof, the rise of some dark shapes behind it, and the backdrop of downtown lit up like diamonds layered on top of each other. Nothing that looked like anything habitable that Mercury was supposed to be guiding her towards. The bare rooftop actually felt _exposed_, like there was nowhere to run if someone spotted her.

"_Hold on a sec._"

There was a scuffling noise in her ear, then silence. For a wild moment, Kate wondered if he had cut her off and left her high and dry, but then, amidst the darkness, she spied movement. The outline of a small figure was waving to her from atop an AC unit on the next rooftop. She waved back, and it beckoned to her, then disappeared from view just as quickly as it had appeared.

It took her a minute to find a route across the street. There wasn't anything like a bridge or a platform to just walk over; just a gap straight down twelve stories to the street. She would have to jump across. She had made several since Merc had guided her in, and each time, she had to push down the rising sensation of her gut and the harrowing sensation of plummeting to the ground in midair. Was this really what Faith did every day? Nonetheless, she squashed the sensation, took a breath, then ran and jumped over the edge. The giddiness remained even when her feet touched down on solid concrete.

After clearing the gap, she approached the AC unit, still not seeing anything that resembled a habitable building or the earlier figure, which she assumed was Merc, but as she got closer, she spotted a faint glow coming from within it. The AC unit _was_ the lair, she realized. Hidden in plain sight like the hundreds, if not thousands of similar units across the entire city.

"_Ladder's on the opposite side,_" Merc said when she couldn't see a doorway. Sure enough, there was a small ladder built into the side, camouflaged so that it looked like the welding of the metal. When she got to the top of the unit, there was a small hole to drop down into, and standing at the bottom of the short drop was Mercury.

He beckoned to her with his hand again. "Come on in, water's fine."

There wasn't a ladder leading down, Kate noticed with a small wince. Carefully, she slid herself over the edge from a sitting position, feeling awkward as hell, then lowered herself down. She nearly jumped when she felt hands on her hips – no her _butt_ – as she made it halfway down, but then realized that he was only supporting her until her feet touched the floor. Fortunately the darkness hid the pink in her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said when she made it down, wiping her hands on her sleeves.

"Don't mention it," he replied casually, smirking slightly. He was taller than her, and built thick like a former football player: a fit, toned frame and a strong face. The light inside was dim, but she could make out the weave of a pair of digital tats up both his forearms. "So you're Kate, huh?" He offered his hand. "Mercury. Friends call me Merc."

Obviously an alias or a nickname. "Kate Connors," she replied, taking his hand and shaking it. It was firm, confident. "But you already knew that."

The lair hadn't been impressive from the outside, but Kate took the initial assessment back when she saw the inside. The inside was furnished with a cot, an old sofa with a sheet draped over it and a beat up plastic table, but the main feature was the computer, or rather, computers. Multiple modems and screens had been jury-rigged into a power supply, and judging from how he guided her to the lair, it must have been tapped into the city network, plus some kind of navigation. There were several police scanners as well, hissing softly with the volume turned low. It might have looked more impressive if there wasn't trash littered around everywhere. If not his, then definitely Faith's.

It looked ratty, maybe even dirty, but Merc himself didn't look like some punk or thug with a drug problem. In fact, he looked pretty clean cut. The surrounding almost didn't suit him or his bulky frame.

Mercury tapped the back of the computer chair at the desk. "Why don't you have a seat?" he offered. "Bet you're wiped."

Wiped _almost_ covered it. She was still panting and sweating like she was a fresh rookie in training. The run in the night air had chilled her and her legs were sore, so she gratefully dropped onto the chair. After a few deep lungfuls she was able to catch her breath. When she looked back up, Merc set a steaming cup of something on the desk in front of her. The familiar scent of coffee hit her nose. It had only been days since her last cup, but it felt like an eternity since she had a good punch of joe.

"It'll do you good," he said when she looked at him. "You've been through a lot. The caffeine will help."

"Thanks," she said again, then took a tentative sip. Too hot. "Where's Faith?"

Merc only shrugged.

"You mean you don't know?" Kate asked in alarm, almost standing up, but Merc held up a hand.

"Easy, Kate. Faith's a big girl. I wish I knew where she was and what she was doing too, but she can take care of herself." He reached out and plucked the earpiece from around her ear and tossed it on the desk as if to emphasize a point. Now that it was gone, she remembered that she had been wearing it the whole time. "Without this on her, I have no way of tracking her. We could try and get something on the scanners and see if she's in trouble, but by the time we find anything, she might very well be back. Oh, and if you're wondering if that was part of the plan to bust you out, it wasn't. Just Faith being Faith."

He seemed awfully calm, but knowing that the City Protection Force and Pirandello/Kruger were on Faith's heels made her want to run out and find her, to do anything to try and help her like she did for her. But now that she was sitting down, adrenaline starting to subside, she felt almost exhausted, and she doubted she had the strength to climb back up through the hole in the roof, which appeared to be the only way in or out. Plus, they'd be looking for _her_ too, and Faith gave her the earpiece so she could get away. She could never undo that sacrifice.

Kate turned her attention back to the steaming cup in front of her. Everything in the past day had moved so fast, she could barely keep track of what was going on. The city found her guilty of murder, a sentence which still numbed her entire body. How was that even possible? Where was the evidence? One day she was just doing her job, and the next thing she knew, she was a fugitive, broken out of incarceration by her own sister and a rag-tag group of vagrants, sitting inside their hideout on top of a roof. What the hell would happen tomorrow? It all made her head spin.

A chuckle from Merc snapped her out of her daze. He was leaning on the far edge of the desk, fiddling with a piece of electronics and smirking to himself.

Kate gave him a quizzical look, but grinned a little herself. "What's so funny?"

"Nothin'. I was just thinking of how much you reminded me of Faith when I first met her. Sitting there, looking into a cup of coffee like it held all the secrets of the universe, and you're even her twin. Talk about déjà vu."

Intrigued, she turned towards him. "Just how did you and Faith meet anyway?"

Merc's smirk widened. He set the gadget down to give her his full attention. "Actually I really didn't _meet_ her. I _caught_ her breaking into this very place years ago, believe or not."

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she suppressed a guilty laugh. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Yep. I was coming back from a night run when I saw a light on. At first, I thought it was a crook, some kind of vagrant poking around, or worse, a cop. I didn't expect to find a teenage punk rooting through my things."

A twinge of guilt ran through her. She could only imagine Faith, days after she ran away, living on the streets and resorting to petty crime – and maybe not so petty crime – to survive. She knew her own sister, and she knew she could get into a _lot_ of trouble. If only she had woken up when she decided to run away that night, maybe she could have stopped her.

"Leave it to Faith to get into that kind of stuff," Kate sighed. "From what I've seen on the streets, she could have wound up dead."

Merc looked thoughtful as he continued, staring through the slitted vents of the AC unit as he looked into the past. "You know, Faith never told me what she was after that night…" He seemed to think about it more, then shrugged. "She was just a kid back then, so who knows? Food, money, drugs…hell maybe it was just for the kicks."

"So what did you do when you caught her?"

He glanced at her, and that look almost said everything. "She threw some wild punches, let me put it that way. Not a big talker, but I don't blame her. We all got ghosts." He shifted off the desk to pace a little bit before turning back to her with another look of familiarity. "But you know…there was something about her. I don't really know why, but I offered to train her as a Runner. Figured it would be a good way to keep her out of the gangs and street crime. Give her a sense of purpose, ya know?"

Faith was the complete opposite to Kate when it came to personality: free-spirited, independent, and stubborn. Though, she thought further, maybe they weren't so different when it came to being stubborn. Obviously, she had taken the offer, but she figured she'd humor Merc. "And she said yes?"

"Every day I expected a no-show. But there she was, right on time. Hot or cold, rain or shine; every time. No matter how much I pushed her, she was always there. She made plenty of mistakes, yeah, but she never quit. _Not once_." He looked away again. "Which is just as well; once you become a Runner, there's no looking back. I know guys who have gone on to other things, but still…it's a lifestyle that you just don't lose."

Kate gave a hollow, disbelieving laugh. It sounded crazy. She knew her sister was headstrong, but this was a delinquent's life. "And she never said why? Of all the trouble she could have gotten herself into, of all the street gangs and organizations, of all the help groups and opportunities, why a Runner?"

Merc shrugged again in response. "Why? Why'd you become a cop?" he asked evenly.

"I became a cop because…" Kate faltered as the reason hit her. The November Riots. Disorder, chaos, death, suffering. "I became a cop because…after Mom died in the Riots, I felt helpless. It completely destroyed Dad. Living with him was tough, Faith ran away, everything just fell apart. I went through high school wanting to be a computer engineer, just like Mom was, but that only made it hurt more." She took a deep breath. Aside from Miller, Moreno, and Bradley, she never got a chance to talk about her past, and it was never easy. "So, I became a cop. Figured it couldn't hurt if there was one more person out there who could stop something like the Riots from happening again."

It wasn't a healthy way to look at things. Miller had told her in the past that it was too personal, and that it was a good way to make a bad judgment. She couldn't change what happened, and she couldn't be held accountable for what _would_ happen, and that chewed at her every day. Still, at the same time, it comforted her to know that she was at least trying, that somewhere down the road, what she did in the city prevented something happening to someone like it did to her family.

Catharsis was a bitch.

Merc nodded, lips pursed in thought. "If I had to guess, I think Faith would say the same thing about becoming a Runner."

Kate had just taken a sip from her coffee, but nearly spit it out when she heard him. "What? How does working as a Runner help the city? She's helping criminal networks by passing them information! She's working against what I…what the _CPF_ does to help the people."

She didn't mean to shout, but it just came out loudly. It was the one thing she still had an issue with concerning Faith, and the only thing she hated about being a cop. Somewhere down the road, they would cross paths, and one of them would have to do something drastic. Runners didn't even get the CPF's full attention; they were passed off as delinquents, but Kate knew what Faith did.

"So you think we're all just crooks then?" Merc asked. He didn't sound angry, irritated, or indignant. Just…interested.

Her face flushed a little bit. She might as well be spitting in hospitality's face if she said yes. They were criminals by CPF standards, but he knew that. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked.

"I…" she began, then faltered and looked away.

"Runners aren't just interested in helping the _city_," Merc explained. "We want to help the _people_. Today? Everything's watched; businesses, mail, heck, you can't surf the Web for porn without the city knowing what your kinks are. People want a way around that, a way to communicate without a pair of eyes watching their every move. We don't exactly steal from the rich and give to the poor, but you know what I mean."

"So you supply a means to transfer information and communication below the city's radar." It was hard for Kate to keep the accusation out of her voice. "So _criminals_ can slip past the CPF."

"I won't lie, we get some shady costumers," Merc admitted, but he didn't miss a beat. "But we have rules and standards. Job's too hot, we won't touch it. We're not mercenaries; we don't fight or kill for cash, or any of that sort of thing. You know the saying 'don't shoot the messenger'? Well, we're the messengers. We don't care what our clients do, and we sure as hell don't involve ourselves in their business."

It seemed like a clever way to shift the blame, like trying to accuse a phone for letting criminals contact each other. But unlike technology, Merc, Faith, and however many other Runners there were had a conscience. They _chose_ to do what they did.

And here she was, accusing someone who just guided her out of a hornets nest. Another wave of guilt washed over her. Kate sighed, glancing down. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

Merc waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. You're a cop, it comes with the job, though I gotta say I'm surprised you're still defending the CPF after what you've been through."

"Well…old habits die hard, I guess." He was right, of course. Why was she so hell bent on supporting the CPF after she had just been tried and convicted for a murder she didn't commit? She took a bigger sip of the cup of coffee, wincing slightly as it went down. Still a little too hot. "Though I suppose that will change—"

_BANG._

She jerked as the cup shattered in her hands, turning into a thousand stinging fragments as the hot coffee splattered against her. There was barely time to register _what_ just happened before something with the weight of a small truck knocked her off the chair and landed on top of her, almost crushing her. It was Merc, moving a lot faster than his frame suggested.

Then the gunfire started in earnest.

The noise was horrifying. The sound of hundreds of bullets penetrating the outer shell of the lair grated on her ears in one big terrible noise. Lead pierced what it could, ricocheting and shattering off what it couldn't. She was vaguely aware that she was yelling, _screaming_, her mouth muffled on what turned out to be Merc's bicep as he pressed himself over her.

Then it was all over. Just like that, silence fell, though her ears were ringing to the point where she thought she was deaf. Or dead.

Between the two of them, Merc was the one that moved first, snapping her from the shock. He grabbed her by the arms, half crawling and half dragging her across the floor over bits of glass, metal, junk, and ceramic. On the way past the computer and monitors, which were now a bullet-ridden slag heap, he kicked beneath the desk. A spark snapped from one of the few remaining modems. The rest of the monitors, not even showing anything coherent, sparked and went dark.

Whatever lights that had been on inside the lair were out. The only lights now came from flashlights that cut through the dusty, smoky air, casting irregular shadows over them. There was a faint sound of a radio, then footsteps. Kate realized that she hadn't breathed yet and let out a shaky gasp. Then another. And another.

"Quiet," Merc hissed. He propped her up against the outer wall, sliding up next to her with a gun in his hand. "Shit…shit…_shit_…Cel, kid, please don't tell me this was you. Not after everything…"

"Merc…" she whispered, "W-What are we going to do?"

She didn't know how, but PK had found her. The flashlight beams were coming from all directions, and so had the bullets. They were surrounded. Merc didn't have enough firepower to fight back.

Merc swallowed hard, eyes closed, then breathed deeply. Swallowed again. "Okay, listen up, kiddo. Look straight ahead, next to the fridge." On the other side of the lair was the fridge she saw earlier, only now it was open and covered with holes, bottles of fluid leaking out onto the floor. "To the left is the emergency hatch. When I say 'go', you run at it and hit it hard with your shoulder. Then get moving as fast as you can."

"Me?!" Kate nearly shrieked, but her voice came out in a shrill hiss. The lights drew in closer, converging especially from their right. "What about you?"

He bared his teeth grimly. His steel eyes were dark in the lighting. "Someone's gotta keep 'em busy and draw their fire. It's dark, and they won't expect someone shooting back. Once you're outside, go back the way you came in—"

"—are you crazy? I'm not leaving you behind!"

"Between a bunch of private security thugs or facing your pissed-off sister and telling her I let them take you, I pick the thugs."

"Merc, no way, let me try and talk to—"

"Shut up, get ready. This is going to be close."

"Merc, please—"

She could fee his hand bracing against her back, but she defiantly grabbed his wrist. This was suicide! If she surrendered, she might be able to convince them to take him alive.

"Get to the Third Ward, corner of Denton and Second. You're looking for a guy named Drake. He's got contacts all over there. Drop my name, and he'll keep you safe."

"Merc…"

"_Go!_"

He shoved her, hard. Hard enough to almost boost her up on her feet. For a fleeting second, Kate considered refusing, but he was throwing it all away to save her. She stumbled, using the push and getting up on her feet as the first of Merc's shots rang out. By then, she was already on the other side of the lair, slipping on whatever dripped from the fridge, and she lowered her shoulder and hit the wall hard. It gave away, just like he said it would. She fell on the way out, rolling onto the gravel surface as the fall-away panel crumpled beneath her, but immediately got back on her feet. Flashlights shined in her face, a surprised figure looming in front of her. She shoved past and sprinted for the edge of the roof.

Automatic gunfire sounded, but it wasn't aimed at her. A pistol returned fire, then another salvo of automatic fire.

"_Go! She's making a run for it!_" yelled a voice.

She tried not to look back, tried to look straight ahead through blurry eyes, but she kept running. The sound of radios echoed behind her as she leaped across the neighboring roof, stumbling a bit on her landing. Then she heard the sound of footsteps.

They were following; two of them clad in military green fatigues and armored vests, wearing sleekly designed helmets that resembled a caged hockey mask. Badges dangled lazily on their shoulders. And they were _fast_.

The first one came from the right, vaulting off an access shed like it wasn't even in his way and landed right on top of her. Both of them went down in a tangle of limbs, but Kate squirmed free and swung a punch. She immediately regretted it as her fist connected with the armored weave of the mask, a jet of pain shooting from her knuckles to her spine then back to her hand, but it at least stunned the cop. The other one was on her a split second later, but she lifted her leg and caught him in the crotch.

Kate tore herself free and made it up, but only made it three steps before she heard the _POP_, then felt the two stinging pains, one high on her back, the other at her kidney.

_Tkktktktktktktk._

"_Hrrrggh_!" The cry strangled in her throat as all of her muscles contracted at once in a fiery burn. She fell flat on her face, skinning a cheek on concrete. The shock from the taser lasted a few seconds, but felt like an eternity where she couldn't breathe. All she could do was spasm involuntarily.

Finally, the clicking ceased, and the hold on her muscles released, allowing her to draw a breath. She weakly reached back, scrabbling for the barbed leads that were tangled on clothes and skin, but the taser clicked menacingly again.

_Tktktktktktktktktktkt._

"Auuuugh!" Her muscles clenched painfully again, jaw straining and clamping down hard until she thought her teeth would break, and then it was over again after forever.

There was the distinctive and familiar sound of plastic ties being threaded, and then hands on her arms. Kate bucked as hard as she could, but the hands left and—

_Tktktktktktktktkt._

She didn't have the strength to even scream. It came out as a strained, choked whimper in her throat. Thousands of volts coursed through her, violently binding her with pain and agony, and this time it lasted even longer. When it finally stopped, she sagged, unable to move except to breathe. Tears welled up in her eyes as the hands returned, threading her limp wrists through plastic cuffs and cinching them tight. The leads in her back were plucked out, and together, the two cops hauled her up by the arms. Her legs shook like rubber, almost unwilling to work as they dragged her back across the rooftop.

There were over a dozen of them, wearing armor and CPF badges and carrying automatic weapons…except their armor was labeled _PK,_ not SWAT or CPF. They were sweeping the rooftop and the rest of the lair in a brisk, efficient manner. There was a third cop wearing green and armor, scanning the horizon. In the distance, a spotlight turned on, and the rotors of a helicopter began to come into the range of hearing.

The two cops hauling her turned her over the others. By now, some of the feeling was returning in her legs. Enough to stand up. Enough to fight back. She got in one good thrash, but that was it. Two of them held her, arms hooked around hers tightly.

"Package secured," one of them relayed into a radio. "Target Mercury has been neutralized. Rendezvous at the Shard in ten."

What little color and warmth that was left in her face drained entirely. There were two motionless bodies outside the lair, a pair of enforcers trying to revive one of them. Inside the ruined lair through the emergency hatch she saw an outstretched leg wearing a Loggo brand sneaker. It wasn't moving.

"No…" she croaked, twisting in the arms of the cop that held her. "No! _MERC_!"

Arms tugged her towards the helicopter as it started to land on the end of the rooftop. Kate screamed and tugged, still weak from the taser, but with her arms tethered behind her, there was nothing she could do. When she kicked at one of her escorts, the other drew back his rifle and slammed the butt into her stomach. She lost her breath and nearly vomited.

Their hands grabbed her roughly and shoved her into the helicopter. She fought back again, but the butt of the gun slammed down again, this time on the back of her head, sending her into blackness.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Inspiration and dialogue for this chapter came from some of the promotional trailers.<strong>


	27. Shard Part 1

**Shard (Part 1)**

Faith shook her pursuers off and took the long way back to Merc's lair. Without him in her ear keeping her position updated, she had to rely on her own navigation skills, but she was more worried about being unable to hear what the CPF was up to in the meantime. If Merc couldn't relay anything on the wires, she had no idea if there was something waiting for her up ahead. With darkness starting to settle in, the simple act of being able to see the next roof ahead was getting harder and harder. If it wasn't for the glow of the skyscrapers as their lights turned on one by one, navigating would have been next to impossible.

She crossed three separate districts after leaving Looking Glass Gardens, and the entire time something was nagging her. She couldn't place what it was, but then again, she didn't have much time to dwell on the fact, so she pushed it to the back of her mind. Every minute was spent keeping a lookout as she ran, watching for the PK Runners, CPF helicopters, or anything else that might have been an indication of someone following her. It was taking a while, but she needed to be absolutely sure she wasn't being tracked.

Night had completely fallen by the time she reached the ring of rooftops around Merc's lair, and from a distance even through the darkness, she saw the hazy smoke. Her blood ran cold when she realized it was coming _from_ the lair, drifting up in wispy strands.

Whatever caution she had been exercising was thrown out the window in an instant. It couldn't have been a more obvious trap, but she ran anyway across the remaining rooftops, giving no heed to how much she exposed herself in the process. When the lair came into full view, none of the lights were on. It was never a disco by any means, but the low glow from the computer monitors or a desk lamp was almost always visible through the ventilation slits. There were bullet holes everywhere.

She flew up the side and leaped down into entry hole in three bounds, dropping into a low crouch and awaited for some kind of attack. With how small the lair was, it would have come immediately; hell, the entire rooftop could have been filled with cops or PK Runners and she would have run right past them to get inside, but there was nothing. No cops, no Runners, no enforcers. But no Kate.

The inside of the lair looked even worse than the outside. Everything was riddled with holes, from the fridge to the computers and everything in between. The acrid scent of melting plastic hit her nose, the main source of the smoke. The stacked modems and servers beneath the desk and been fried, a last resort failsafe that Merc and Drake swore by, a way to completely erase any data inside the computers. It wouldn't be triggered unless things were _bad_.

Faith found her voice after a hard, papery swallow. "Merc! Kate!" she called, but the only thing that replied was a spark from a shattered computer screen. Thoughts began to bubble up and race through her mind, speculating and rationalizing at the same time. The lair had been attacked, but when? Maybe Kate hadn't arrived before it happened, but what if she had? How did PK find the lair? Was it Celeste? Was she still alive? Where was Merc?

But to her dismay, she saw a grim truth lying on the desk that answered at least some of her questions: her earpiece. The same one she had given Kate. Faith picked it up just to make sure, hoping that it was a spare, but no, it was hers. Kate had made it to the lair. She closed her fingers around the piece of tech until the point where her fingers shook, a renewed fear surging through her and forcing a cold sweat.

There was a rustle and a groan of movement behind her, followed by a small crash. Faith whirled and dropped the earpiece to see the overturned couch shift suddenly. Both beneath and behind it lay a figure half-propped against the wall, pressing the couch's tattered cover over a wound on his chest with a gun leveled at her, the muzzle shaking wildly.

What little color Faith had left drained from her face. "Oh God, Merc!"

His eyes widened as he recognized her, and he slumped hard, the gun clattering to the floor. She flew to his side, dropping beside him as she shoved the piece of furniture away from him. The sheet that had covered the couch had been red, but now it was streaked with darker red. _A lot of it_. She reached for his hand, prying it away for a second to see a hole through his white shirt, but as soon as she did, blood began to billow up, soaking the fabric further to crimson. She immediately pressed down on his hand, helping him apply pressure. Just like that, her palms were already slick with it. She was even _kneeling_ in it.

Merc groaned. "I tried to stop them…" His voice was husky, and he swallowed hard, his face even paler than hers felt in what little light there was. "They took Kate…"

"Shut up," she said a little harsher than she intended. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She needed to do something, but she didn't know what. "Just…just don't talk, Merc. Let me…just let me..."

Let her what?

He ignored her and actually chuckled. "I got some of the bastards though." He chuckled again, but it broke into a cough. In the gloom, she saw blood creeping in the corner of his mouth. He was bleeding internally. "Dipshits never thought to check for a pulse."

Her thoughts were running away on her. What was she supposed to do? She needed something to stop the bleeding, but what about the blood he was coughing up? There could be lead still inside of him. He needed to get to a hospital.

Merc coughed again. "Faith…listen. I heard…I heard them say something about the Shard. I think they took Kate there."

The Shard. The mayor's place. The tallest building in the city at the center of downtown. The offices of every city official. For a minute, the information didn't click. Why would they take Kate there?

"Shit Merc, just…let me get a doctor," she said desperately. "Someone. _Anything_."

He gave another weak laugh and coughed. "We both know that ain't gonna happen kiddo...What, going to…carry him back with you?"

She gripped his hand in hers tightly. It was wet and sticky. Not like this. She couldn't lose him like this. Not after all the years and everything she owed him. Not Merc. Not slowly bleeding out right in front of her when there was nothing she could do, when she wasn't even there when it happened.

"I'm sorry, Merc," she whispered. She had been the one that roped him into this. It was her fault. "I'm so, _so_ sorry. I didn't– "

" _No._" Merc snapped. For a second, he sounded completely normal, but it was gone in an instant. "No sorries...just promise me one thing…"

Faith brought his hand to her lips. "Anything, Merc."

"Just don't let them win," he sighed. He tipped his head back, and he swallowed one final time. "Just don't let them…"

She had never seen someone go like that. When Mom died, she had already gone when they found her trampled beneath the riot. This time she saw it happen. The life in Merc's eyes just seemed to blink out after a second, the pained rise and fall of his chest becoming still, and his hand loose in hers, and just like that…

"I won't, Merc," she whispered to his body. "I w-won't…"

Faith tried to stop herself from crying, but realized she already was. First the tears fell silently, streaming from her mismatched eyes, and then they blossomed into full sobs. She tried to hold them back, but they broke free from her throat when she realized that he was really, _truly_ gone. Just like Mom.

Faith didn't know how long she knelt there, hunched over him as she sobbed into his chest. It felt like months, years, but it was still night when she looked up. Numbly, she let go of his hand, placing it comfortably over his chest, and then stood up on quivering legs. She didn't want to leave him, not after how quickly she had to say goodbye, but the longer she knelt there, the more she knew she might never leave.

Glass, plastic, and chips of metal crunched beneath her feet as she stumbled out of the emergency hatch on the side of the lair. Had Kate tried to make a break for it? Or was this how PK broke in? The details didn't even matter anymore. For a minute, it was like walking in a dream, and she couldn't feel anything and but vague sensations and the now-suffocating feeling of the lair.

The fresh air outside felt good in her lungs, but it did nothing for her heart. Faith leaned against the outer wall of the lair, and then slid down roughly into a sitting position, suddenly feeling exhausted. She wiped at her raw eyes with her wrists; the blood on her hands was now stiff and caked on. No matter how much she tried to wipe it off, all it left were rusty smears on her pants.

_Stop crying_, she thought to herself as another silent stream of tears started running down her cheeks. "Stop crying," she ordered herself aloud, her voice suddenly a decade younger.

The city was spread before her, downtown glimmering in a mix of light and steel. The tears made it glow that much brighter. For the first time, it felt like it had won. After years of running the mirror's edge and sticking it to the CPF, that cold reality lurking behind the glass had taken everything. Her two best friends were dead, and so was her sister. It had already taken her mother and consumed her father, and in the process of it all, it ground her into the dirt. What else was there?

There was Merc's last request. _Just don't let them win_. How _couldn't_ they win? They had Kate, and it would be her against an army of private security enforcers. There was no time to get to Drake; she'd collapse before she made it to his lair, and with everything at Merc's destroyed, there was no way of contacting him, or any of the other Runners for that matter. No backup, just her, taking the Shard and everyone in it head on.

She could even see it, sitting from where she was. It was the tallest building in the entire city; a single angular prism amidst blocky high risers. Unless something was in your way, if you were on street level or higher you could see the Shard. Kate would be there. From her vantage point, it felt like it may have well been on the other side of the country. There was no point.

_On the edge of the city, you find out who you really are._ It was something Merc told her when she first became a Runner. Faith never really understood what it meant. She figured it was just some type of slang or expression, but now she couldn't explain why she just thought of it, though it was probably because every memory she had of Merc was now flying through her head. _So who are you?_ asked a voice inside.

Faith sniffed and wiped her eyes with her wrists again, then forced herself to stand on shaky legs. She was a person who had vowed to save her sister, to not let the city win. She _wasn't_ the person who would just let it push her into the ground and rub her face in the dirt. She owed it to Merc after all he had given and sacrificed for her.

The Shard still glimmered in the distance through her tears, only now she knew what she had to do. She took a deep breath of night air in an effort to still her quivering chest. It took a second breath to regain control of her normal breathing. She was going to go to the Shard, and she was going to save Kate. It was either that, or she was going to die trying.

But first, she had to go and face Merc one last time.


	28. Shard Part 2

**Shard (Part 2)**

"Kruger," Miller called out, "we need to talk."

The precinct was almost empty, at least of CPF uniforms. Third shift had come in, and would eventually replace the second shift after the two hour overlap they had, but the PK presence was as strong as ever. The black-suited enforcers always seem to outnumber the blue CPF uniforms at least two to one. However, it was surprising to see that Kruger was still there as late as it was getting, but Miller had a few ideas as to why. Rumors spread fast.

Kruger was moving for the elevator, but he turned when Miller. He thumbed the call switch. "Yes, Lieutenant, is there something I can help you with? I'm afraid I can't talk long."

He played his hand right away. "I heard that Kate's transport was ambushed today, and that she escaped. Why was I not informed?"

Kruger _hmphed_, making an unimpressed face. "Yes, there _was_ an escape attempt, but Connors was recovered earlier this evening, so there was no reason to call in support from the CPF. It appears that she had been receiving help from Runners. A strike team hit one of their hideouts and found her there."

Well, at least most of the rumor was true. Miller figured it had been the Runners. What was more unsettling was the fact that PK had found Kate again so easily. In all his years in the CPF, no one had stumbled across anything that might have been considered a Runner hideout, so how did they recapture Kate in a matter of what, hours? Kruger had to have been holding something else back from him; one last card that gave him a leg up on Runner movement over the rest of the CPF, but at that point, it was irrelevant. Kate was back where she stared, and he needed to move fast.

"I see. If that's the case, then may I ask why she hasn't been booked in prison yet?"

"This is a special case, Miller." Kruger spoke in that same condescending patience he always had, but at the same time, there was a note of stress in it. "Connors has some very shifty people trying to break her out. PK, under approval from the mayor, has taken some extra precautions to guarantee that doesn't happen."

"Oh really? What sort of precautions?"

"The strike team that recaptured her has been ordered to temporarily detain her at the Shard."

Miller blinked. "The Shard? Why there? If you had her in custody, why not take her directly to county?"

The elevator doors opened with a _ding_, a few latecomers stepping off between the two of them. Kruger prevented the doors from shutting with a hand. "I'll be honest, Miller, we were caught off-guard today, and our birds weren't suitably fueled. They are refueling as we speak. The building itself is well-fortified, especially against Runners, and if we can keep her above their reach, we can safely move her to prison by air. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He stepped into the elevator, but Miller clamped a hand on the doors. "I want to help with the security detail."

Kruger outright laughed. It was a clear, concise chuckle that sounded both genuine and forced at the same time. "Lieutenant, you've stuck a gun in my face, dug around unauthorized in our case, and in general, been an overall headache to this investigation. Pardon my language, but why the hell would I let you help oversee PK operations?"

It was time for the moment of truth: to see how stupid Kruger really was. "You seem to forget what I told you earlier," he stated. "The fact that Kate was one of my subordinates was incentive, but it is also irrelevant. I'm more interested in upholding the law in this city." He needed to play the part of a beaten cop, not someone trying to save a friend. "If Kate was innocent, then she wouldn't have run, and since she was my subordinate, I want to make sure that she goes down for her crime appropriately."

The look of surprise on Kruger's face was a good sign. It was a full one-eighty from a few days ago, but it was plausible; he had been playing the part of trying to get his officer out of a mess, then realizing that the whole time she had been guilty, just like the evidence was saying. He was feeling the pressure from the CPF integration, and wanting to keep his position, decided to join the side of the strong. Better to do some ass-kissing now and keep his job than get dumped out with the rest of the officers that PK thought they could do better without.

Now the only problem that remained was if Kruger was stupid enough to take the bait. He was certainly cocky enough. This would be the perfect chance to lay down some law and order among the CPF ranks; Miller held quite a bit of pull at the precinct, and seeing an officer like him showing loyalty to their new bulldog overseers would undoubtedly create a nice example.

Slowly, Kruger stepped out of the elevator. The doors closed, and he heard it move down to a different floor in the precinct. Kruger pursed his lips, mulling it over. "Been hitting the bottle, Miller? I can smell it on your breath."

"I'm not drunk, if that's what you're implying," he countered, glad he had drank as much as he did. Better that Kruger see his resolve crumbling, or at least let him think that was the case. "If you ask any precinct officers, I'm sure they would agree that a drink on the job every now and then helps keep your morale up, especially in a city like this."

"You'll have to forgive me for being cautions, but I can't really see your angle on this." Kruger's expression didn't change. Miller could tell that he sensed something wasn't quite right, but if he was taking this long to think about it, then he didn't know what. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're up to something."

Miller spread his hands. "Come on Kruger. It doesn't take a genius to see what you're doing with PK. Your enforcers are replacing CPF officers little by little. I doubt you'll be able to replace all the officers, and given my age and standing, it's a bit early for retirement. Consider this a show of good faith."

It felt like an eternity for Kruger to respond. He just stood there, eyes slightly narrowed as his jaw ground back and forth. "You know Miller, that might not be a bad idea," he said finally. Miller's heart beat a little faster. He'd actually taken the bait. "If you really care about cleaning up this city, then you should have no problem making sure that Connors is safely extracted tonight." The tone of his voice dropped slightly, taking on a more dangerous tone. It was the same tone when they'd had their standoff in the interrogation room. "But understand, given your previous involvement, I will be issuing an escort for you…just in case you're thinking of trying anything funny."

Well, he didn't think it would be that easy. Apparently Kruger still didn't fully quite believe him, but he seemed more interested in flexing his power than playing it safe. That was all the opening he needed.

Miller forced his shoulders to sink a little. "Thank you." He kept his voice neutral. "While I can assure you that an escort won't be necessary, I can respect that you want to cover all the angles."

"Indeed. We move out in ten minutes. First floor of the garage. I'll see you there."

This wasn't a pissing match, so he let him have the last word. Kruger turned and thumbed the call switch again, and Miller returned to his office, letting out a deep breath once inside. Not quite the point of no return, but common sense kept screaming at him to back out while he still could. If it had been anyone other than Kate, he might have listened to it, since this was going to be a one way trip.

He only had a few minutes, but there wasn't much he was going to need to take with him. He left his radio and earpiece on his desk and double checked to make sure he was carrying his full loadout: both of his sidearms, and two extra magazines for both. After a moment of thought, he unclipped his badge from his front pocket, the weight of it familiar in his hand. He thought about leaving it on his desk, _wanted_ to. What he had in mind was not something a sworn officer would do, and at this point, he didn't even consider himself a cop. But, for all intents and purposes, he was, so he clipped it back on and headed out the door.

No one from operations really gave him much consideration as he crossed the floor, which was good. He didn't want good-byes, or any lingering connections that might come back to make trouble for his officers. This was his decision, and his alone; no need to sully anyone, or the entire precinct in the process, let alone the CPF itself. It had taken enough bad heat with this incident with Kate. He had almost made it when he nearly bumped into Moreno coming out of the break room with a cup of coffee. Miller swore silently in his head. Not her, anyone but her…

"Oh, boss," she said, looking up from the cup and spotting him. "Hey, about earlier…look, I didn't mean to…Miller? Where you going?" He brushed past her, ignoring her and hoping that she would take his silence as a sign that he was still angry with her, but he should have known better. Moreno was stubborn as hell. She caught up to him, trying not to slosh her drink over the floor. "Hey, Miller?"

"I have something I have to do, Moreno," he replied crisply, hitting the call button a few times. "I'll be back later." That was a straight up lie.

"I saw you talking to that _pendejo_ Kruger…What's going on?"

"It's nothing to worry about." He pushed the call button a few more times, hoping that would make the elevator arrive faster. "I saw that you were backed up on your paperwork again. I'd like to see that done before you leave tonight."

She opened her mouth to reply, but two PK enforcers came around the corner, stopping at the elevator. Miller paid them no mind, but Moreno reared up to her full height as her face turned into a scowl. It immediately vanished when she saw that he didn't react. She always did have something of a knack for picking up small details.

"Boss?" she asked softly, "What are you doing?"

"It doesn't concern you, Moreno," he said, hoping that the finality in his voice would end the conversation. "Remember what I said: do your job…" he paused, and then added, "even if I'm not here."

That would have to suffice as a good-bye.

The last view of Moreno he saw was her standing with one fist balled, eyes glistening as the doors began to shut. She looked as if she was ready to chuck the cup and leap into the elevator after him, but she stayed motionless. The doors closed, and the elevator lurched as it began to descend to the parking structure level. Miller allowed himself a tiny sigh. He couldn't show the frustration he felt with the two enforcers right behind him; Moreno had deserved better, and he wished there was a way he could have given it to her.

The elevator stopped, opening to the parking garage. There were three armored transport trucks lined up, all jet black and stamped only with the Pirandello/Kruger bulldog insignia and a little over two dozen enforcers around them, fully armed with a variety of assault weapons and full body armor. Even though he was flanked by the two enforcers from the elevator, the others subtly moved into a semi-circle as they approached, almost as if he was being surrounded. Miller tried not to think of them as a pack of wolves ready to attack, but it felt like something similar. Kruger emerged from behind them in a business-like fashion, looking out of place in his three-piece suit among weapons and armor.

"We move out now," he called, "RV with Able and Bravo and prep Connors for exil." No responses or 'yes sir' from any of the enforcers, but they immediately began to filter out to specific vans. Kruger jerked his head in the direction of two of them. "Stenson, Marks, meet your new best friend: Lieutenant Miller. He's volunteered to help us make sure things go smoothly tonight, and I want you to show him how PK does things. Lieutenant Miller? I'm sure you won't mind."

A lot of words to just say 'watch him carefully and shoot him if he causes trouble', Miller supposed, but he didn't expect anything less. They hadn't even disarmed him.

Miller remained indifferent. "No, I won't. I would do the same in your shoes, Kruger."

"Glad we have an understanding," he smirked, moving to one of the vans.

Stenson and Marks, his newly appointed bodyguards sized up in front of him. They looked almost like clones; same broad, strong features, same efficient army-style haircut, same armor and weaponry. Miller didn't back away, and after half a second, Stenson, or maybe it was Marks, simply jerked his head towards the last van, and turned with his comrade to enter in through the rear. Miller followed them.

It had been a little over a decade since he had worked in SWAT, so the cramped rear of the truck was foreign from his own personal car. Stenson and Marks sat on either side of him, with two enforcers sitting across. It must have been intended for four, not five, as his shoulders brushed the pauldrons of both of them. The two across the way seemed to have plenty of space for themselves.

The truck's diesel engine spurred to life, and after a moment of waiting, they began to move. With no windows in the back of the van, it was hard to tell exactly which way they were taking to get to the Shard; for all he knew, maybe this was just a ploy to take him somewhere else and dispose of him quietly. That thought made him shift tensely, and he thought about how quickly and efficiently he'd able to draw in a cramped space like this so close to four other men. It would be messy.

After the familiar slope of the parking garage exit and a right turn, Miller quickly lost his exact orientation. He felt regular stops and turns that felt like the city street, complete with a few potholes and horn honks audible through the armor. Eventually the drive smoothed and turned steady; it felt like the freeway.

His company wasn't exactly a chatty bunch. Whether this particular group just didn't talk because of his presence, or if it was just how PK operated, he didn't know, but the drive seemed to stretch longer than it should have. The enforcer sitting across from him kept making eye contact as he cradled his weapon on his lap. It was a sleek, but brutish looking shotgun, pump action, but with two barrels. _NeoStead_, Miller recalled, _Bradley said it was a NeoStead. European. No, not European, somewhere else…but designed to kill._

Miller stared back, and after a minute or two, the enforcer seemed to lose interest entirely. The drive continued, until they started to slow down. Not entirely to a stop, but it felt like they had left the freeway. Then more starts and stops, sharper turns. They were back on city streets. After a few more minutes, he felt another gentle incline, and then they pulled to a stop.

The enforcer nearest to the door opened it, flooding the back of the van with brighter light, and they began to casually file out. It wasn't an abandoned construction site, or the outskirts of a city. He recognized from previous visits that they were indeed in the Shard's underground parking structure. It consisted of several floors, mostly containing reserved parking for city officials, the floors unassuming concrete grey and the walls painted white and orange.

Stenson, or Marks, stayed at his flank, while the other one moved in front. He pretended to ignore them, but kept their position and what they were doing in mind. While his plan would have been easier without an escort, he had expected it. They were a nuisance, one that he had to put up with until he located Kate.

Kruger was nowhere to be seen, but the elevators were nearby. He could already be somewhere in the Shard while Miller's truck was still pulling up. Instead one of the enforcers was now giving orders, first picking out half of the squad.

"Secure all entry points in UNICOMM offices on floors thirty-eight through forty-one. Delta will supply cover and overwatch from the surrounding buildings." He turned to the other half. "Bravo wants additional support at the helipad." Lastly, he turned to Miller and his two escorts, but spoke mostly to them as if he wasn't even there. "Kruger wants him on the fifth floor atrium. Don't let him out of your sight."

All the enforcers began to depart with their respective orders. Miller was ushered towards the elevators, silently thinking about what his next step was. The Shard was a massive building, over a hundred and ten stories tall. That was a lot of ground to cover for just the enforcers he saw. There were already some there, but he didn't know how many. They couldn't watch the entire building, though; just the chokepoints. He was beginning to see what Kruger meant by keeping Kate out of the Runners' reach. There was no way to get to the top of the Shard except by helicopter or through the building. All they had to do was watch all the entrances above the surrounding buildings at rooftop level or lower.

However, by that logic, he knew exactly where they were holding Kate: at the very top of the building.

They stepped into the foyer just outside of the fifth floor atrium. The atrium itself led straight to the top of the Shard, and Miller wondered for a moment why Kruger had ordered him to such a critical location. Then, he realized, as they stepped into the atrium itself, that it was crawling with almost a dozen heavily armed enforcers.

Their leader stepped forward, his features obscured beneath a dark mask and his helmet. He was toting an assault rifle. "Just the two of you? Who's this guy?" he asked, nodding towards Miller.

"CPF," one of his escorts replied. "Kruger wanted him present."

The leader made an odd sound beneath his mask. It sounded like a growl of contempt. "Keep him in the foyer for now, and watch him carefully."

_This is impossible_, Miller realized as he was escorted back down the hall to the receptionist desk in the foyer. Not with that kind of firepower waiting for him, and who knew what else on the hundred or so floors that stretched above him. Even if he wasn't planning on getting out alive from the start, there was no way he could help Kate now.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Yes, I'm still working on this! I just don't have a lot of time for writing anymore, but I believe there's just 2-3 more chapters left with this. This was the last 'difficult' chapter for me to write, and from here on things should be a little easier for me. I personally didn't think this chapter was all that great, but it's necessary, since it details Miller's presence at the Shard, or at least gives some context to it.<strong>


	29. Shard Part 3

**Shard (Part 3)**

At night, the Shard was the most beautiful thing in the city.

It stood a few city blocks from the harbor that split the city into two, rising like a glass prism among the buildings. Unlike the high-risers around it though, it was only three sided, like a long stretched triangle standing on one of its faces, every surface a deep blue, reflective glass. From far away, it almost blended in with the night sky, the occasional pulse of red aircraft warning lights giving away its true size and dimensions.

The Shard was over a hundred-some stories tall, and the upper half was completely smooth and featureless. It wasn't until you were right up next to it that you could see the finer details and the divisions between the glass panes. The lower half of the building seemed to morph and fragment as it neared the ground, as if the triangular shape was being twisted and segmented, like it were made of stacked triangles. The points of the triangles formed balconies as the twist ran towards the ground, and eventually, the building lost its shape towards the ground, turning into a stable star-shaped foundation.

A solitary car drove past on the overpass above her as Faith made her way along ground level, sticking to alleys, side streets, and the occasional low rooftop to snake her way to the deepest part of downtown. The Shard came into view from between the skyscrapers, right in front of her. She had to crane her neck painfully just to see the very top of the building, and realized now why PK had taken Kate here. It was a fortress, the center of the city's political body with the highest security. There was limited access from the surrounding buildings to the Shard's lower balconies, and those would likely be heavily guarded. The only way in was through the ground floor, or the roof, and she didn't have a helicopter. Inside would undoubtedly be heavily monitored with controlled access.

She swallowed hard, dropping her head to look at the path ahead. Fortunately, due to the sheer amount of people that worked both at the Shard and the surrounding buildings in downtown, underground tunnels connected the buildings, housing food courts, some light shopping, and access to the city subway. These sometimes opened up to the city above in small atriums, which is where she stood now. She ducked into a maintenance access hallway that ran through the solid concrete beneath the city like an ant tunnel. It wasn't going to be a matter of getting into the Shard, she was confident of that; it was going to be a matter of if she could make it three steps in without getting shot.

A small measure of comfort was the weight tucked into the waistband of her pants at the small of her back: Merc's gun. At least she wasn't going in unarmed. One handgun wasn't a whole lot of reassurance, especially knowing what PK was armed with, but if she got lucky, she'd be able to arm herself with something a little heavier inside if the need arose. Otherwise, she was outnumbered _and_ outgunned. Stealth was going to be the key if she was going to accomplish anything.

The weight of the gun moved her thoughts to Merc again, and not for the first time since she left the lair. The silence in her ear was almost crushing; no gentle hiss of static, and he wasn't there to update her route or even just talk to her and keep her company, like he usually did. She felt strange without it, almost disoriented, like one of her senses was being blocked. Steps and paths felt uncertain, and the conduits of motion she usually followed without second thought seemed foreign to her at times. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't push away the thought of him lying there motionless in the dark.

She had stopped at a restroom on the edge of the city's central park to try and wash the blood off. It came off her hands easy enough, even from under her fingernails, but it was still caked into the knees of her pants, dried and crusty on her thighs and tank top. There was nothing she could do about that, nothing she could do for him. She felt a twinge in in her eye-

_-No,_ she thought, _I don't have time to keep crying over Merc. _Kate needed her _now_. Once she was safe, then she could mourn. There was no one else; with everything destroyed at the lair, she couldn't get in touch with Drake or the other runners. No backup, no cavalry. Just her and PK.

The access tunnel eventually dead ended, at least for a normal pedestrian; not for a Runner. Pipes and vents ran through openings in the walls, pumping water, air, gas, and electricity in and out of the underground complexes. There was plenty of room to slip in between them, and soon, she was sliding past thick piping and hopping over small gaps, working her way steadily to the foundation of the Shard. After a few minutes, she squirmed over one last vent, then kicked open a locked door ahead of her.

The wall on her left, painted a deep blue, was the outer edge of the Shard's lower levels, comprised of thick concrete blocks and a matching floor. If it followed typical city planning, she reasoned, it would probably have a parking structure beneath it, or a few utility rooms. Pipes along the ceiling led around the corner, through another door, and they had to lead somewhere. Once she got into the building itself, then she could worry about moving up…and slipping past PK.

There was a door at the end of the hall, marked _Parking_. She leaned in close to it and listened, but all she could hear were the faint reverberations of the Shard: the sound of air flowing through vents, the hum of electricity, and the faint, hollow buzz of traffic off concrete walls from far above her. The other side of that door was inside the Shard proper; there was no way that a point from the outside wouldn't be guarded. She was half-surprised no one was outside in the access hallway, but they probably didn't expect this to be her first approach. Underground, slowly and quietly? Definitely not the trademark of a Runner.

She pushed on the door's lever slowly, but it refused to open. Mentally, she went through her options. Without a Tracker like Merc or Drake backing her up, she couldn't find any alternate entrances quickly. She would have to search by herself, which she didn't have time for, and probably would bump into security sooner or later. The fastest way ahead was also the loudest.

She grit her teeth, pulled Merc's gun from her waistband and made sure the first round was chambered, then drew back her leg and kicked. The door was heavy and metal and the impact registered up her leg in a dull pain, but the lock broke and the door swung open with a bang. They were waiting for her, but they weren't ready for that. _So much for stealth_.

Faith only had half a second to acclimatize to the room, and even that was almost too long. Cars parked in rows, walls of white and orange with pipes painted over in the same colors. Concrete columns threaded together by the pipes to make rows. She had come out between two sedans parked along the wall. And dotted everywhere were black armored enforcers.

They all turned to the noise of the door, pausing in surprise while they registered the brunt and straightforward attack. Faith charged straight into the room before that ended, raised her gun, and fired in mid-sprint. It was hard enough shooting a gun, let alone in full motion. She pulled the trigger three times dropping the enforcer in front of her on the third shot. Either a lucky shot, or he wasn't as armored as she thought.

The others opened fire. An automatic weapon to her left chattered, but she already ducked into a slide. A line of bullets cut through the hoods and windshields of the cars she had ran past. A resounding _BOOM_ of a shotgun rang out as the buckshore tore a divot in the floor ahead of her, but the shot had been out of reflex, and went wide.

She reached out, snagging the fallen enforcer's weapon by the stock as she skated past on her butt and thigh, cursing as its strap snagged and almost killed her speed. She just made it under the pipes that separated the next row of cars, enough to shake the enforcers behind her, but there were plenty ahead of her…including one that nearly stepped right over her. Her movement stopping, she kicked up, catching him right in the groin, then scissored, sweeping his leg out from under him. He fell in a heap almost on top of her.

Almost at the same time, another enforced stepped out between the row of cars and leveled a shotgun at her. She aimed one-handed and pulled the trigger of her gun half a dozen times. Two shots passed through his thigh, then his knee, and he went down howling, his target forgotten. She brought her heel down on the nose of the enforcer still tangled in her legs, knocking him out for good.

She spun her legs to get her feet under her, then was up and running, hauling the enforcer's gun with her. Whatever it was, it was some kind of compact assault rifle; small, but ugly looking and heavier than she expected. It weighed her down, and her speed and maneuverability was her one advantage. They weren't the PK Runners; they were more like SWAT, relying on firepower and their numbers.

_Where is it?_ she thought, searching for that one sign: elevator. Or stairs. Or anything to point her forward, up, and out of the garage and out of their gun sights.

She dove between two cars as gunfire returned, but before they had time to line up a decent shot, she was already in the next row. There! A sign for elevators pointed down the row, towards the other end of the garage. The only problem was that she would have to move parallel to the row, losing a lot of her cover, and they were way better armed.

Pausing a single second to jam her gun into the waistband of her pants, she hefted the rifle in both hands, then took off in a sprint while trying to stay as small a target as she could. They might not have had a clear shot, but that didn't stop them from taking potshots whenever they saw a flash of her movement. The enforcers were rounding the row, but before they could line up a clean shot, she buried the butt of the gun between her arm and body, then pulled the trigger. She had zero experience using an automatic weapon, but she didn't actually need it to hit anything; what she needed was a deterrent.

The weapon kicked as it fired, but she held it in their general direction, spraying the corner of a concrete barrier and a luxury car with bullets. It ran dry with a hollow _click_ just as she cleared the corner. The enforcers returned fire, but she chucked the gun aside and dove forward.

The elevators were tucked in a small alcove of glass panels which shattered as stray rounds tore through it. Faith slid through the falling shards, all the while pulling free her handgun. Smooth concrete gave way to some other form of tiling, which killed her speed instantly. She used the burn to roll to her side and started firing, pushing the enforcers back to cover again. There was a _zing_ as something flew past her ear then exploded against the concrete wall behind her. Her hearing went out, but she kept firing. They stumbled back, giving her just enough time to scrabble to her feet and hit the call button. A shard of glass stuck in her hip like fire. If it wasn't already there…

_Ding._

Faith clawed her way into the elevator before the doors were half open, banging her shoulder hard, then mashed a floor on the console. The return fire came, and for a second, she was back in the CEC news building as the elevator doors dented inward from the hail of bullets. The doors shut, and the car lurched upward.

_Not so bad, I guess, _she thought inanely, panting hard. Her ear was ringing almost painfully, and she was covered in scrapes, but at least she was still alive. Her gun was empty, so she ejected the magazine, taking her only spare from one of her pockets, then slid it in and released the slide. All that, and she hadn't even reached the first floor of the Shard yet, and worse still, the elevator she was in only went up to the fifth floor. There had to be another set of elevators she would have to take to get higher.

Faith wiped her face with her hand, then wiped it on the seat of her pants to get rid of the sweat and grime. The elevator _dinged_ and she stepped into a sea of blue and white, gun raised and ready to move and shoot, but relaxed a hair when there was no one to greet her. The floor beneath her feet was thick, plush carpet the color of sapphire, walls white and almost sterile looking. The upholstery, trimmings, hell, even the artwork was blue too, except for the fake white ficus plants. The light from the energy-saving bulbs were almost bright enough to sting her eyes. If it wasn't for the colors that she wore, she might have almost forgotten any other color existed.

She pushed onward, Merc's gun up in front of her, knowing what was behind her wouldn't just lose interest. The elevator doors had already shut and it began to descend. The enforcers would no doubt be moving after her, and there was no way of knowing what was ahead. Save for the faint sound of electrical buzzing from the lights or the occasional wall monitor, it was way too quiet, and that quiet was beginning to gnaw at her. Unless PK was feeling cocky, she felt there needed to be more than that, but any period that didn't involve people shooting at her was a chance to move freely.

Faith, or any Runner, had never set foot inside the Shard. What she needed was a map, but there wasn't time to paw through a computer for a directory, or wander around until she found one. All she did know is that she needed to head up, and signs pointed her in the direction of another set of elevators, past the reception area. That would have to do for now. She jogged down the length of the blue and white corridor, which ended in a door. She moved forward, checked it, found it locked then kicked it open. A room, cobalt floor and ceiling, white walls-

-and a black fist came from her blind spot and struck against her temple.

Spots flashed in her eyes, and she became only aware of the blinding pain that shorted out her senses. Faith was on the ground before she could even register _what_ happened. A boot hit her gut, expelling her breath, and somewhere between it and the punch, her gun had fallen, already kicked away.

When her vision cleared, she saw the figure in white standing in front of her. He hadn't been the one to hit her; he was content to just sit and watch it happen. Miller. Flanked by a PK enforcer, looking starkly out of place in his white clothing against the black armor, but somehow in place among the white and blue surroundings. The enforcer who had hit and kicked her loomed over her, then dropped his boot right on her neck. It felt like a safe being dropped on her throat. She hacked and gasped, managing just the tiniest of air from under the tread.

Miller gave a _hm_ of content. "Good work," he said crisply. Her temper flared as she glared at him. This whole time, he'd been playing her for a sap, and now she walked right into it. She should have killed him when she had the chance!

The other moved to join his partner, fingering a pair of zip ties from his belt. Faith grunted, then clawed at the leg of the enforcer, but it was like iron. Her leg lashed out, but he was out of range, and she couldn't sweep him at this angle. Goddammit, she didn't come all this way just to get snatched up after a sucker punch. The enforcer threaded the ties, the teeth purring_ zzzz_, plastic on plastic.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

Time seemed to move slow and fast at the same time, even though she hadn't hit a Deadpoint. She caught every detail, but it was over in a second. As the enforcer stepped forward, Miller drew his guns. It was an effortless motion, from arms crossed to both extended, and he fired each once, staggered slightly like a rudimentary flam. Both shots found their mark in the back of each enforcers' heads, and they went down instantly.

Still recovering from the kick and her throat being nearly crushed, Faith gaped and sputtered from the ground as Miller strode forward, glaring down at her until he was even with the two he just killed. There wasn't time to get to her feet, only to her elbows before he was over her. She swallowed and found her strangled voice, and found it defiant. "You gonna kill me too?"

The look on his face suggested he was seriously considering it, but to her surprise, he holstered one of his guns, then offered his hand. "No."

Stupidly, she looked at it, then back up to him, swallowing hard. "Uh…why not?"

He bared his teeth, but it was a wince of frustration. "Because you and I are the only ones who can save Kate," he replied patiently. "Unless you'd rather I just left you here for PK to find…"

Faith blinked, seeing it now. Of course. She reached up and grabbed his wrist, and he tugged her to her feet with a brisk pull. The world swam a bit from the blow to the head, but she steadied herself in his grip, then let go. _Wait a minute…_

"Weren't these your guys?" she asked, remaining cautious and ready to spring. Why was he helping her?

Miller snorted, then gave one of the bodies a prod with his foot. "No, these are PKs. Private security's finest thugs; also what's going to be replacing CPF if Kate takes the fall for this. I know you don't like cops, but I can guarantee you'd like these less."

For the first time, Faith was able to take stock of where she was. It looked like a reception area, one wall lined with monitors and a desk at the far end beside a row of chairs and couches. All of it was blue. In raised lettering along the wall bore the Callaghan slogan: _Finis Coronant Opus._ His turf, his slogan, though that didn't stop him from branding it on every other billboard across the city.

Miller beckoned to her, then started moving. She paused for a second, then stooped to retrieve her gun, stuffing it into her waistband.

"Miller, what's going on?" she asked. "If this place is being covered by PK, then why are you here?"

"Let's just say that PK is more interested in flexing their power than thinking things through," he replied cryptically. "But once these men are found, that will change quickly. They've probably already heard the shots. We need to get to Kate, and fast. They have a helicopter coming in any minute."

She remained firm. "You didn't answer my question."

He sighed impatiently. "Look, you were right, Pope's murder did have an inside man."

"Ropeburn," she nodded. "But he didn't kill Pope. He hired someone." She left Celeste out of it. Miller didn't need to hear that the murderer had been right by her side the whole time. "He told me himself."

"Really?" Miller asked, raising an eyebrow. "What else did he tell you?"

"That a cop needed to go down for it, then they killed him, but not before I tracked down the guy he hired. He said that Pope was getting too nosey into Callaghan's plans, that he found out he was hiring PK to target me and the rest of the Runners. CPF takes the fall for Pope's death, Callaghan has an excuse to get rid of a corrupt police force, PK moves in…"

"…and Callaghan has his own personal army enforcing the city streets," Miller realized. "The beginnings of a totalitarian regime, if he could get away with it." He looked suspicious again. "If you heard this all from Pope's killer, how do you know if any of it is true? And why are they targeting Runners?"

That remained the million-dollar question. Why _were_ the Runners being targeted? Celeste said that was coming, but never _why_.

"I don't," Faith admitted. And, in truth, Celeste never told her any of that either. It was all just what she pieced together, but it sounded plausible. "But that was right before PK tried to kill both of us. S…he didn't have much to lose at that point." Her stomach twisted again. She had almost said 'she'. Just how backed into a corner was Cel when she took that path? What if there had been no other alternative? She would never know now, not after all those bullets and that explosion.

"At any rate, we don't have time to sit here and speculate," Miller said. "I'm only concerned with getting Kate out of this city and out of PK's hands." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a wireless earpiece. "Take this radio. I'm on the same channel. If we get separated, we'll at least be able to coordinate."

Faith nodded, slipping the earpiece in. It felt good to have something in it. It wasn't what she was used to, and it fit a little lopsidedly, but for a minute, she felt like a Runner again. If only she heard Merc to greet her when she put it on…

A radio from one of the dead enforcers crackled, a gruff voice asking about the gunshots through the static. They were out of time.

Miller drew one of his guns, then motioned to hers. "You know how to use that?"

She pulled it free, turning it in her grip. "I know how to shoot it, if that's what you mean," she offered helpfully.

"Good enough, I suppose." He beckoned again, taking point and moving out of the reception area. Faith followed closely, but gave him enough space. He didn't move long before slowing to a crawl. Up ahead was another set of doors. "That way is the main atrium. It has the main elevators that reach to the top floors of the Shard. I counted almost a dozen PKs in there, and they are heavily armed."

_Great_, Faith thought darkly. While Miller was probably better with guns, she didn't like those kinds of odds. "Any other way?" she asked on the off chance that information was only for her interest.

"Unless you think we have the time and strength to climb a hundred and ten flights of stairs?"

Well, no. No they didn't, but that didn't mean she had to like that, either. "Alright, so what's your plan?"

Miller checked his gun, then clicked the hammer back. "I shoot, you run. Think you can handle that?"

She grinned. "It's what I do."

He nodded briskly. "Good."

With that, he drew back his leg, kicked open the door, and charged into the room with his gun blazing.

Faith did what she did best, and ran.


	30. Shard Part 4

**Shard (Part 4)**

If Miller's plan was anything, it was simple, but he was _fast_.

As soon as he kicked open the door, his gun was up and he was firing. A PK enforcer had been moving towards the door when it blew open on its hinges. He barely missed getting clocked by the door but he caught a double-tap from Miller's gun straight in the chest. Miller fired again before he hit the ground.

The atrium was huge; a high ceiling that spanned at least another five floors with a balcony that rimmed the level above with a sprawling tile floor. A light fixture done in the style of hanging glass shards was suspended above a large silicone sculpture in the middle of the room. The entire room was skewed, angled like the shards of glass that made up the sculpture and light fixture, and it made Faith's head pound from the disorientation. Or maybe it was the gunfire.

The glass sculpture shattered instantly as the enforcers fired through it in return. Faith couldn't see if Miller had dropped another one; she was too focused on sprinting in behind him while trying to stay as low as possible. Nor had she gotten a count of their numbers or where they were. She saw Miller slide behind the low dais that the sculpture sat on as bullets chipped at the edge, forcing him to the glass-covered floor. The air was full of a fine haze of dust and powdered glass, Miller a blur of white as he relocated and squeezed off another few shots. He had taken the brunt of the fire, but it didn't take long for them to target her as she took cover behind a pillar.

She stuck her gun out and pulled the trigger a few times, but she knew that her shots weren't even close. Gunplay had never been her strength, or any Runner's, for that matter, but Miller seemed to have that part covered for the both of them. She heard him fire, though she couldn't see him, and an enforcer cried out. She mentally tallied off two. He said there were a dozen.

_Play your strengths._ _Run._

She sucked in a deep breath, leaned out, and fired a couple of shots at the enforcers. They were digging in behind sofas, pillars, or any other piece of the abstract architecture, protecting the elevators on the other side of the atrium. A couple of them ducked back from her wild shots and she sprinted out, heading for the line of sofas and chairs that bordered the room. Bullets zinged past her every step of the way, and she hit the upholstery hard as it exploded into fluff. It was enough leverage to get a few steps up the wall and grab the rail of the balcony with her free hand to pull herself up and over.

With on enforcers on the balcony, the high ground was hers. She still couldn't shoot for shit, and that wasn't lost on the enforcers below. They seemed more focused on bringing down Miller than her, but that wasn't to say they weren't interested in shooting at her. One leaned out too far to get an angle on her, allowing Miller to pick him off cleanly. Three down.

It just took one with an automatic weapon to push Miller back under cover, while the others turned on her. She hunkered down behind one of the slanted pillars that supported balcony, her heart beating wildly as it was carved to shreds and dust. When there was a break in the gunfire, she dove low, blading herself against the floor then moved further up. There was a cry from the enforcer's side of the atrium as Miller's guns rang out. Four down.

She ducked behind the next pillar. Miller was doing most of the damage on his own, but she could be one hell of a distraction. She leaned out and took a few more pot shots at the enforcers below, seeing one go down after the fourth pull of the trigger. That's when her gun clicked dry, and a shotgun _boomed_. She fell back behind her cover, but had been acutely aware of the tugging she felt on her pants. Stray buckshot passed right through the seam by her knee.

The enforcers tore through Miller's cover with a fierce burst of concentrated fire, forcing him to fall back, but he got caught in a bad angle between the bullets. The enforcers started to fan out, using their remaining numbers to their advantage to flank him and keep him pinned down, and Faith was out of ammo to draw them off.

Without even really thinking, she launched over the railing at the three that were closest to her. The thug she landed on almost gut the muzzle of his shotgun into her gut as her shadow loomed over him, but she landed feet on his shoulders. There was a faint crunch that shot through the soles of her feet as his collarbone snapped when her full weight hit. He crumpled under her, his bulky armor absorbing the rest of her fall.

The one behind her raised his gun, but she stepped back off the enforcer, grabbing the weapon's forearm with both hands, then yanked it forward over her shoulder. Just as quickly she shoved it back, ramming the butt into the bridge of his nose.

The remaining enforcer had all the time in the world to shoot, but he was directly in line with his teammate, even if Faith was between them. That hesitation let her duck low and spin as the other enforcer fell. She lashed out with a kick, catching him in the back of the knee. Enough to bring him down on his knees with a wild spray of gunfire. She brought the gun around like a bat as she came back up, driving it right against the side of his skull beneath the lip of his helmet.

He keeled over just in time for her to see the only enforcer left standing catch a bullet from Miller between the gaps in his armor. A shell casing _clinked_ on a patch of marble tiling, and everything got quiet. Faith realized that she was panting and covered in sweat, the ends of her nerves tingling with adrenaline, and for a second, wondered if what happened in the past ten seconds had even happened at all.

"That was reckless," Miller quipped as he replaced his magazines. "Not something I'd expect from Kate, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised with you."

Faith chucked the gun away. "Yeah, well next time, I'll sit back and let them kill you. You're welcome, by the way. I'm fine, thanks."

Miller _hmphed,_ but not before she saw the corners of his mouth twitch up as he palmed the elevator call switch. It only lasted for an instant. "There will be more of them, especially near the middle of the Shard where the surrounding rooftops reach. That's where they probably thought you were going to try and enter."

The elevator took some time to arrive. Merc's gun was a different make and model, so she couldn't just grab some clips from the fallen bodies. Rather than waste time feeding bullets into the magazine, she just grabbed a new gun from a holster and stuffed it into the waistband of her pants. Miller finished reloading. Other than his white shirt and pants being a bit dirty, he wasn't hurt.

The elevator arrived, but as the arrival bell chimed, Faith heard the sound of boots from the other side of the atrium. The doors opened just as another squad of enforcers pushed into the room. Either the group from the parking garage had caught up, or it was a different group altogether, but they entered firing.

Something hit her blindly from the side, knocking her off her feet. It was Miller, shoulder checking her aside into the elevator, firing from one of his guns. She heard the _whiz_ and _ping_ of a bullet next to her head as she fell, and the next thing she saw was the ceiling of the elevator. Another round shattered off the closing doors before they sealed, and the car lurched upward to whatever floor it was set to idle at.

Faith swore to herself as she scrambled to her feet, then hit the highest numbered button on the panel, which went well past a hundred. Miller might not have had a complex plan, but getting separated couldn't have been a part of it. He probably knew a bit about the Shard and how to get around, so without him, she was back to simply groping for the next path. All while dodging bullets.

The floors ticked by quickly, though not quick enough for her tastes. A woman's recorded voice played over the speakers, telling her tidbits about the Shard: when it was built, how high it was, and where to buy souvenirs or a t-shirt. Just under that, the sound of gunfire continued, until it gradually became buried under the soothing voice and whir of the elevator. If they were still shooting, that meant that Miller was still alive…hopefully.

The voice was suddenly cut short as the car lurched. There was screech as brakes were applied, and then the whole car stopped dead. Faith pressed a few different floors on the panel, but there was no response, not even so much as a light. The door buttons yielded nothing, either.

The speakers crackled again, but the mellow female voice was gone, replaced by a gruff male. "_Drop any weapons you have Runner, and prepare to be taken into custody."_

"Damn!" Faith swore aloud this time. She needed to get out. She was trapped inside a box, and PK had already zeroed in on her location. There was no way she would be able to fight back if the doors opened to a whole battalion of them.

The doors wouldn't open, no matter what button she pressed on the panel. It didn't seem to be powered, though the lights were still on above her, and PK had used the intercom to threaten her. Nor was she strong enough to pull them apart. She slapped the door in frustration. _Think, Faith. Go up._ There had to be an access panel above her. The ceiling looked almost seamless with paneled metal, but she spied the edge of a hinge. She jumped and shoved against it. Nothing. She shoved again. A rattle, but it was sealed.

She had completely forgotten about the radio in her ear until it hissed gently. "_Faith, are you reading me?_"

Her first thought was Merc, but instead of his casual gruffness, it was Miller's hoarse, weathered tone. "Miller? Yeah, I hear you. Where are you?"

"_In a security room on twelve._"His voice sounded heavy and terse, almost pained. "_I managed to give them the slip and get behind them, but it won't be long until they find me._"

"Yeah, well, no better here. They locked down the elevator, and I'm stuck here, no thanks to you..."

He ignored the jab. "_I know, I'm tracking you on the security feed. If I can see you, they can too._" She glanced around, seeing a tiny camera ball up in the corner of the elevator. She promptly gave it the finger, for both PK's and Miller's benefit. "_You need to get out of there, they've got a dozen enforcers moving to you._"

"I know," she snapped back, "but I can't get the door open, and the access hatch is sealed."

"_Check the emergency panel._"

"Oh, so I'm going to call for help?"

"Check it._ City planning mandates that a building the size of the Shard have an emergency access release installed on elevators._ _Trip it, and you should be able to get out._"

Faith went to a knee and pried open the emergency hatch beneath the control panel. There was a phone…and just to the side, a red button labeled _Emergency Access Only – DO NOT PRESS._ She gave an annoyed _hmph_ and punched it. The ceiling hatched dropped open. "Handy little tip for the future."

"_Don't think I won't arrest you if I catch you breaking into city property like this_."

"Oh, I know you would, Miller," she replied. "That's why you're such a good cop." She jumped up, getting a handle on the edge of the elevator car, then hoisted herself up onto the roof of the car. "And that's why I don't like you."

The main elevator shaft was dark, the only sources of light being low-priority bulbs that ran almost every other floor. Faith leaned over the edge and peered down. The shaft continued down, gaping like a giant mouth. The lighting seemed to taper off after a few floors to the point where she couldn't see the bottom. Above her, the shaft stretched equally endlessly.

"_Where are you right now? The release triggered an alarm, so they know you're in the shaft_."

Faith had to squint to see in the gloom. What floor had she last seen on the panel before it went out? Above her, she saw pale white numbers next to the door. "Looks like I'm between thirty-nine and forty." Not even halfway up.

"_Give me a second…_" A low perpetual buzz filled the air, gradually turning to a roar, and then from above another elevator car came _whooshing_ past, producing a gust strong enough to flutter her bangs. As the sound faded, she realized Miller was talking. "_Three floors down, there should be an access point to the ventilation system. They're nearly there, you only have a few minutes._"

"Great," she muttered, scanning the shaft again. It was only about a hundred feet across, with virtually no footing more than a few feet in width. The Flow was almost nonexistent, but there were a few handholds she could see in the low light. A structural I-beam ran across the width of the shaft halfway across, and two floors down, a maintenance path ran parallel beneath it. From there, some piping that ran down might be enough to get her to where she needed to go.

_Emphasis on might. _Buzz, roar, and another car _whooshed_ past, this one going up. The shaft was plenty wide, but the elevator cars were big and boxy. Based on the four sets of cables she could see, one ran in each corner of the shaft, which meant she had to stay clear or risk getting clipped as one came past.

She took a deep breath of the cool air, swallowed, then jumped, catching the lip of the I- beam to hang over the abyss. She couldn't see the bottom of the shaft, which meant that if she fell, she wouldn't see the ground as it came to hit her. That thought put a cold trickle of sweat down her back. She swung her legs, her upper body working hard to keep its grip, and just before the peak of her swing, she let go with enough momentum to carry her across the second half of the shaft. Her landing was nothing more than three or four feet of smooth metal, and she had to claw at a thin conduit to keep her forward speed from bouncing her off backwards down the shaft.

The maintenance catwalk was slightly below her, but dangerously thin; no more than a couple feet wide, and nothing more than a simple platform without railings. She wasn't even sure if it was going to support her impact.

Faith jumped, and at the peak of her jump, realized she was going to hit too hard. She let her legs crumple beneath her, a lance of pain shooting up her thigh as it bent too hard, but it still wasn't enough, she tumbled face-first off the platform. At the last second, she twisted, catching the edge of it with one hand and then the other, but her left hand slipped. Another elevator hurtled past just behind her, close enough to _feel _it on her back, followed by a gust of wind. She kicked her legs, getting both hands on the edge again until she was able to hoist herself up, panting from exertion and the sheer burst of adrenaline from the near fall.

The nerves could wait; she hated being inside the cramped elevator shaft, and PK would be coming sooner rather than later. From her crouched position, she leaped again, this time going for the conduits on the wall of the shaft. They weren't exactly reinforced piping, and they sagged under her weight, but they held. She climbed down the last level, then looked for a ventilation shaft or access point. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the low gloom, but it was still dark.

The crackle of a radio drifted down from the stopped elevator car, and when she glanced up, she could see a few stray beams of light from within. PK was catching up. She finally found the edge of a metal grate, then started to work her elbow into it. Fortunately, it was only a thin metal cover that crumpled inward after the first few blows, and from there she was able to grab it and pry it off.

"Alright, I'm in," she said, her voice bouncing down the ventilation shaft and back again. The Shard was a big building, so the internal vents were almost big enough to stand up. "Where exactly am I going?" Hopefully the answer would be _up_. This detour had cost her a few floors.

"_Keep following the shaft you're in._" Miller relayed. "_It should turn a few times, then lead to an exterior intake vent on the upper-most balcony on the north face of the Shard._"

Faith stumbled a bit uncertainly. "Wait, outside?"

"_The buildings are close enough for a Runner to get across. If you can get to the west side balcony, it's a straight shot to the executive elevator. It goes to the top of the Shard, and can't be shut down by general security. By time they figure it out, it will be too late._"

_Yeah, let's hope_, she thought darkly. How did Miller know if the buildings around the Shard were traversable? If she wasn't able to get around, there was no way she was going to get back in so easily. But she was the rat in the maze, so all she could do was trust him. He wouldn't have gone this far if he wasn't trying to help.

The ventilation shaft turned three times just like he said, and then just ahead of her she saw another grate, the lights of the city sparkling between the strips of metal.

"_Faith, be careful,_" Miller warned. "_PK has units on the surrounding buildings._ _I heard them mention snipers and other units._"

'Other units'. That probably meant PK Runners, which meant she would need to run faster.

She reached the vent and kicked it open, dropping to the balcony below. It was the point of one of the jagged triangles that formed the Shard's base, the highest one before the building started its smooth, featureless trend upward. Before her stretched the adjacent skyline. If this was the north balcony, she needed to go left to get to the west balcony, so she scanned the buildings in that direction. Low tops, lots of fencing, solar panels, not the greatest heights for getting from rooftop to rooftop…but yes, Miller was right, it was traversable.

She broke into a sprint and vaulted off the balcony to the next rooftop. The glow of the Shard dimmed as stepped onto the smaller and less-important block next door, but that would help to provide cover from anyone trying to get a bead on her. It would also hamper her vision, and the route ahead already wasn't the greatest.

The first shot came a lot sooner than she expected. She had vaulted a fence, passed beneath a vent that ran from a roof access shed, and was just passing a line of solar cells when a shot rang out and clipped the last panel, shattering it. There was no way of guessing where the shot came from, nor anything she could do about it except run faster and try to stay behind things. The next shot came seconds later, this time nipping at her feet. The shooter was either firing fast, or there was more than one of them.

When she slipped between two AC units, a dark shape leapt at her from above. Faith ducked and slid to avoid colliding, the PK Runner landing several feet behind her in a roll. The time it took to get back on her feet and moving gave him enough time to get up and redirect himself at her. Speed was her only advantage. The slower she moved, even to fight, the more likely she'd take a long range bullet to the chest, so she pushed herself harder, the footsteps of her pursuer adding to her own.

She clambered over a fence in one motion, the weight of her pursuer making it shake just a second after she leaped off. Another shot rang out, but this one landed a dozen feet in front of her. The footsteps behind her multiplied, and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that another enforcer had joined the chase.

She pushed on to the next roof, gradually making her way towards the west balcony. The PK Runners behind her didn't let up, but the shots came less often and usually missed wide. She hoped that was a sign that the shooters didn't want to take any risky shots that might hit her pursuers, but decided that the theory wasn't worth testing.

It came to blows on the next roof when her pant leg caught on the jagged lip of a chain link fence. Faith stumbled on her landing, almost landing on her face when a kick came out of nowhere and took her in the ribs, sending her to the ground. She used the rest of her motion to let herself roll backwards back up to her feet just in time to block the roundhouse that would have hit her skull.

The second Runner slid in from her blind spot, taking out the back of her knee, and just like that, she was back on the ground again. As she hit the ground, her breath got knocked out of her, but she brought her leg down hard on him, getting her heel square against his mask before he got up. The other pulled his taser free, but she kicked up, knocking it away as it discharged.

The pain in her gut was enormous, but she scrambled to her feet while she had the chance. The Runner launched at her with a flurry of fists and kicks, but she blocked a sloppy hook then twisted and threw her weight into him. She felt the _crack_ in his arm as he grunted out in pain, then dropped him with an elbow to the chin, just where his mask ended and neck began. He barely hit the ground before a shot rang out, close enough to _zing_ past her ear and destroy an electrical panel on the wall behind her.

The snipers were getting closer in their shots as she left the remaining Runner behind. Voices and distant radio crackles were starting to waft in as teams began to zero in on her location. Just one more top until she got to the west balcony.

Another close shot from a high-powered rifle nearly took her in the thigh as she hopped a pair of AC units. She felt the tug of the round as it clipped her pants, but only a feel seconds later did she feel a warm trickle down the back of her calf. If there was pain, she didn't feel it, and her leg still pumped. She took the next jump, then put everything into her legs for the final gap ahead of her. It was a big jump, one that could have used a little more height, but with no other alternative, Faith threw herself off the edge. She landed on the balcony with an inch to spare.

She hit the ground with a sloppy roll, but got to her feet as another round put a hole in the pavement next to her. The door that led inside was just ahead. Instead of stopping to kick it, she dove at it shoulder first. It gave way under her weight, unceremoniously dumping her back into the expensive blue carpet of the Shard and out of the sights of the gunmen outside. Her shoulder throbbed where it had met the door, the pain going all the way down to her elbow, but from what she could tell, it wasn't broken or dislocated.

"Ugh, Miller, I'm through," she grunted, scrambling to her feet.

"_Take the second right, follow the hall, and then another right,_" he relayed. "_The elevator should be at the end of the hall, and it _should _be working. Take it to the server room, and from there, you can get to the roof_."

Faith followed his directions, not liking that emphasis on 'should'. The hallways weren't any less luxurious, but they seemed smaller, leading off to separate doors and offices. The hall ended in a T-junction, with a secretary's desk and reception area to her left, and a stretch of corridor and the elevator to her right. She called it, and the doors opened immediately. The server room was clearly marked at the very top of the control panel.

Unlike the main atrium elevators, this one had a glass back. With a lurch, the car started moving up much faster than she had ever felt. At first, the window showed nothing but lighted concrete, but after clearing a few dozen floors, it opened up to one of the Shard's angles, which apparently served as a massive atrium from the lower floors all the way to the roof. Outside, the ring of downtown glittered around the harbor, the rest of the city stretching away from it in a myriad of colors. The sky glowed a dull orange over the expanse of lights.

The elevator just kept going up. A few dozen floors ago, she had already passed the highest buildings in the city, and she was just now reaching the halfway mark of the Shard. By now, most of the city was a carpet of lights beneath her, and she picked up on an irregular black shape against the backdrop. It was a PK helicopter approaching the building while it ascended. Kate's pickup had arrived.

Faith gripped the railing in the elevator hard enough to hurt. This was it. The elevator would beat the bird to the roof, but she was working on minutes, and she had no idea what she was walking into.

The elevator began to slow, and then finally stopped with a soft chime.

The room beyond opened up into a polygonal shape housed within the glass triangle of the Shard's walls. Everything was either glass or chrome or some other polished metal, set on a white tile floor. Housed in the very center behind a set of glass walls was a labyrinth of computer servers, almost too many to count, stretching in rows and columns almost the entire length and breadth of the building.

"_You there yet?_"

Faith swallowed. "Yeah, server room. Jesus, I never really imagined…"

"_I know. I've never seen it myself, but I've seen pictures. Surveillance for the entire city, right under your very nose._"

Merc and Drake would give both their right arms to get twenty minutes in this room; to be able to understand how the city's monitoring systems worked, where the back doors were, and what kind of data was stored there. They knew a little bit, but hadn't even scratched the surface. How many petabytes of personal data was there? How many phone calls, text messages, email addresses, internet searches, pictures, serial numbers, bank statements, and utility bills? It was one thing to know it. It was another thing to _see _it.

Within the server room, there was a staircase that led up to another level above, presumably to the roof as well. Glass doors slid open as she approached, with a surge of cold air billowing out over her. Even with the air conditioning running overtime, she could still feel the warmth from the servers as she stepped into the room proper. Each one was an immaculate white, without so much as a stray cable coming from them. She expected silence from the monoliths, but they hummed over the sound of the air conditioning. The combination felt like thousands of tiny insects in her ears. It was almost enough to make her grind her teeth and her skin crawl.

"_Faith._" Miller's voice was urgent. "_I just heard over the radio that the chopper is nearly there. You have to – _shit –"

There was a loud scuffle in her ear, followed by a _thud, _the sound of breaking glass, and then a volley of gunfire. Then silence.

"Miller?" She pressed the radio earpiece deeper into her ear, a new cold sensation washing over her, but all that responded was static. "_Miller!_" More static, only it wasn't from her earpiece…

From between the rows of white, there was a glimpse of black. Then three more.

"Shit!" Faith tore the radio out of her ear as the enforcers opened fire.


	31. Shard Part 5

**Shard (Part 5)**

Faith sprinted down the first row of servers, putting herself out of line of sight with the enforcers. She didn't make it more than a few steps when another one stepped into view down the same row she was in. Yet another one, and who knew how many more, was stacked up just behind him.

_They can't risk the servers,_ she told herself. _At least they won't be able to_-

_BANG_

The enforcer squeezed off a round, but in his haste, the shot barely went wide, clipping one of the servers. Faith cursed and turned down another column, stumbling from the sharp change in direction. So much for them not risking the servers. They were still shooting to kill, and tucked away inside the very brain of the whole city, it felt desperate.

Faith turned and sprinted down another row. The lines of servers, cooling stations, and shelving limited her visibility to four straight directions. At any given time, she could see ahead, behind, or left to right, which would give her plenty of cover if she kept moving, but it also created a maze for the enforcers to ambush her.

The muzzle of a gun stuck out from around a server. She raised her hands as the gun came in to view, clamping down on it firmly and pulling. Her speed dragged the enforcer with her, but she didn't let go. His buddy behind him stepped after him to line up a shot, but the big, bulky frame of companion that was wrestling with Faith filled the space between them. There was no room for finesse; Faith threw herself forward, seeing the surprise in his eyes behind ballistic glasses and his balaclava as her forehead butted the bridge of his nose. She saw stars, but had been expecting it.

The grip on the gun loosened, but not enough to pull it free. Faith kicked him in the gut, pushing him back into the second enforcer behind him. He awkwardly caught him, but managed to tuck his gun under his arm and fire. The burst of gunfire was wild, but it shredded the server next to her. Faith dropped the gun as hot plastic pelted her, then stumbled down the row. More gunfire rang out from another enforcer a few rows down as he caught a flash of her. Then another, then another.

She willed more speed into her legs, trying to get out of their sites fast enough so that they couldn't aim. Another server was peppered with rounds, spitting broken sparks, then another was torn apart by a pair of shotgun blasts. The air turned thick and acrid with the smell of melting plastic as another shower of sparks erupted from the destroyed electronics.

Then, with a shrill wail, the fire suppression system kicked in. It was like a sudden downpour as the sprinklers above opened up. The white tile floor became dangerously slick as the water started to bead, then pool together in small puddles.

The wet rubber soles of her Loggos squawked as she turned direction down another row. An enforcer stepped out in front of her, twin barrels of his shotgun aimed at her chest. She went low, down into a slide as he fired, dodging the buckshot. The wet tile gave her a lot more speed than she expected. She raised her leg as she hurtled towards him. Taken aback and unable to pump a second shell, the enforcer stumbled, parting his legs to try and step aside. She caught him square on the knee, then flew between his legs. The enforcer went down with a crash as two more turned the corner she had come from.

Coming to an end to her slide, Faith twisted, freeing the gun from her waistband and fired from the floor. She got the first enforcer twice in the chest, but the other ducked away behind a server. The one with the shotgun twisted on the floor with his broken leg, bringing his gun around to fire. Faith kicked at a server, sending herself down the next row on her butt as the shot hit where she had just been.

Her butt and legs were soaked from the pooling water, but so was the rest of her for that matter. The fire suppression system was still going, in a torrent, standing water seeping over the rubber outer sole of her shoes and dripping into her eyes from off her bangs. It muddled the Flow; what looked like easy movement melted into a haze of slickness.

What happened next was a blur to her. The fire alarm became one long scream that felt like a power drill going straight into her skull. It seemed like there was always gunfire, but it was hard to tell because she was always moving. If she could, she shot back. If they got too close, she fought them off with her hands and feet. Never more than one at a time. Her gun went dry at some point, becoming a cudgel. She lost track of it after she pitched it at an enforcer, breaking through the protective glasses he wore.

She turned to face another enforcer. This one didn't even see her coming until her foot was moving towards his head. She got him hard on the side of the skull, just beneath his ballistic helmet. The water beading on it splattered everywhere as the blow connected, slamming his head into the side of a ruined server. He slid to the ground like a limp noodle, face up against the water.

Faith took off running again, then realized that the gunfire had stopped. The only thing she could hear was a piercing ringing, and for a second, thought that her hearing was gone. But it was just the shrill scream of the fire alarm filling her head. The four directions up and down the row she was in were clear, aside from the occasional dropped weapon, debris, or limb that twitched or shifted occasionally in the film of running water.

Mopping her bangs out of her eyes, she sprinted towards the stairs, pausing only briefly to snatch the sidearm from one of the unconscious enforcers, tucking it into her pants. Once the stairs went past the ceiling, the water stopped, but it was just as cold with the climate control still blowing just as strong against her wet skin. The stairs gave way to a short hallway that turned at the end. Just after the turn was a chainlink gate.

It was chained and padlocked shut, and despite her hardest kicks, all she could do was shake it. The ceiling was paneled, but not the simple cork tiles she could break away. There was maybe a foot and a half of clearance above the gate. Barely enough room to squeeze through, but there was no other way to double back and get around it. She bent at the knees, then jumped, grabbing the top of the gate, then awkwardly hoisted her legs over in the inches she had to spare while trying to keep her weight off the tines.

The tines of the chain links at the top thankfully weren't razor-tipped, but they caught on the hem of her tank top and the cuffs of her pants. Something pulled, then fabric tore as she squeezed through. One of the tines scraped her back, leaving a hot, tingling scratch over her kidney that felt wet, but she had worse earlier that night. Another tine snatched her cuff, and she fell hard to the other side. Something clattered next to her, and she realized it was the gun she picked up. It had been tugged from her pants and fallen to the wrong side of the gate.

The gaps in the chain were too small for her hands to fit through, and the gate came too low to the floor to reach under. She was trying to decide if she had the time to squeeze through and back a third time when the sound of muted rotors made the decision for her. The chopper had arrived…or worse, getting ready to leave. She had no idea how long PK had kept her busy in the server room. The rotors were faint, but she could definitely hear them through what little was left of the Shard above her. She turned and sprinted down the length of the yellow hall. Stenciled signs in white pointed her straight towards roof access, and bursting out of the final door at the top of the stairs, she came out on the roof.

It felt weird to be at the highest point of the entire city and have it look so ordinary, especially after the server room below her. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it had been more. It could have been any other rooftop in the entire city. Other than its triangular shape, it was paved with gravel, housing a few large AC units, a few solar arrays, a cell tower, and a transformer. By far the biggest structure was the raised helipad in front of her, stretching yet another story up. The most unsettling thing she noticed right away was the lack of any buildings surrounding her; anyway she looked was sky, glowing softly above the city, with the horizon just visible over the edge. This was a vertical dead end.

The spinning blades of the helicopter were visible from her angle below it._ It wouldn't take long to load Kate, _Faith realized. _Which means it could take off at any second!_

There could be anything up there, but she had no other choice, and no other time to prepare. She had the element of surprise on her side, even if she was exhausted and soaking. There couldn't be more than a few enforcers up there. She raced up the stairs, stepped onto the platform, and–

"_Jacknife?_" she blurted, stopping dead in her tracks.

At first she thought she was seeing things, but no, it was him. Gelled hair, leather jacket with blue highlights, digital tat…with a gun in his hand. And he had Kate.

Her hands were cuffed together in front of her. When she heard Faith over the sound of the rotors she tried to leap forward, but Jacknife caught her by the arm, burying his gun into her side. "Hello, Faithy," he said, his voice never losing that stupid brightness whenever he spoke to her. "You're looking a little worse for wear…"

Faith was at a loss for words. Seeing him shook everything she thought she knew about what was going on. This whole time… "But…" she sputtered, "you couldn't-"

"Attitudes like that…" Jacknife chuckled condescendingly. His face hardend, lip curling from a smirk to a snarl. He lifted the gun up to press it against Kate's cheek. "Well, that's exactly why I _could_."

Kate maintained herself, but Faith saw her face working hard. She saw fear there, desperation, longing, confusion…what did she know of anything that was going on? Jacknife jerked her by the arm, dragging her back towards the helicopter behind them. It was less than a dozen paces away, but Kate fought against him. Faith took a step after them, but Jacknife tensed, pressing the gun hard enough to turn her head, and she stopped. She recognized the long magazine jutting out from the grip of his gun. Some kind of automatic pistol. At that range, it would shred Kate to a pulp.

_He's feeling the heat too_, Faith realized. She could read it in his body language. He tried to act loose and cocky, but Jacknife looked _pissed_. Quickly, she weighed what she could do, and it turned out not much. Kate being alive was central to the whole mess, so she didn't think he'd have the guts to shoot her, but at the same time, she couldn't take that risk. Not when it was Kate.

So, she needed to stall and wait for an opening, and knowing Jacknife, she knew that dicking with him when he was pissed off was the key. She needed to set him off balance, make his attention waver for a few seconds. "Really?" she said hotly, "I still find that hard to believe. Not a creep like you." She almost had to holler to hear herself over the rotors.

"Let's just say I know who the bigger fish are," he sneered. He jerked Kate back another step.

Faith followed and gave a harsh laugh. "Callaghan, right?" Over the sound of the rotors and the wind, it was hard to catch his surprise. "Cel told me herself. Pope found out about Callaghan's deal with PK, so he needed to be shut up. And what better way? Make it look like the cops are dirty enough to do it, and replace them with a private security force that he controls."

Jacknife took another step back. "I'm impressed," he finally admitted. "Never knew you were so smart, Faithy."

"But that doesn't explain what the Runners have to do with it," she said, stepping a little closer. "We're no threat. Why target us?"

"Oh that? Classic warfare. Cut the lines of communication, shoot the messengers…without the Runners, and without Pope, the last remnants of the old city will be isolated. Vulnerable. Then, this city can focus on cleaning up the last of its dregs."

_Come on, give me an opening you prick, _Faith thought to herself. All she needed was a second or two where the gun wasn't pointed at Kate. It didn't matter if she herself got shot in the process; she _would_ take Jacknife down, but she was running out of time. They had reached the helicopter. Jacknife roughly shoved Kate towards the compartment, then stuck the gun in her face to the point where it brushed against her septum, then jerked his head towards the passenger door. Kate glared defiantly, but held her ground, refusing.

"So this is just the start?" Faith said, trying to keep his attention on her. "Cel said PK had an army to smoke out the Runners."

"I prefer to think of it as an ending." He kept the gun in Kate's face, but at least he wasn't holding her anymore. "And what an ending! I have to give you credit Faith: when I entered this game, I didn't see you lasting this long; too hot-headed and stubborn to really think things through. I figured you'd just end up as a notch on some enforcer's kill count, but you did a remarkable job at coaxing out all those loose ends surroundings Pope's demise." He grit his teeth together, but his eyes went cold. "It's why you're still alive."

He started to train the gun on her. This was her chance, and she took it and lunged. Faith was fast. Kate was closer, faster. Jacknife was _fastest_.

Kate jerked forward, lifting her cuffed arms to knock the gun away. Jacknife moved like he had been expecting it the whole time and whipped the gun over her nose. The force of the blow knocked Kate back over the lip of the passenger compartment, loud enough to _crack_. Faith was one step forward when Jacknife whirled and brought the gun to her chest. She froze and locked up, taken aback by how fast it happened and expecting to hear a shot, but there was nothing.

His jaw clenched, hatred now burning in his eyes, but instead he grabbed Kate by the belt, tugging her into the helicopter as he stumbled in backwards, keeping her in sight with the gun. He was playing it safe.

Faith let out a frustrated sound that was drowned out over the growing roar of the rotors. The pilot was spooling them up faster, getting ready to take off. And there was nothing she could do. Jacknife was too far away now, even if the gun was no longer pointed at Kate. He'd gun her down before she closed the half of the distance. Kate writhed on the floor of the helicopter, a thin trickle of blood oozing between her fingers as she clutched her nose.

She wanted to yell, to beat her fists onto something hard, preferably Jacknife's face. She'd come all that way up, came almost close enough to touch her sister, and now she was being taken away.

It was too much.

"_Coward! How can you do this_?!" Faith had to scream now. The craft shuddered, then slowly lifted off its skids. "_After all those years! After Merc, Drake! After me! After all that time on the edge you-_"

"_You can't live all your life on the edge, Faith!_" Jacknife yelled back. "_Sooner or later, you have to _jump_!"_

The helicopter banked gently, shifting over the city below, getting ready to turn. It would take Kate to county prison, where she would die. And all she could do was stand there and-

_-no, you have to jump-_

She broke into a sprint, heading towards the edge of the helipad, arms pumping like pistons. She took every last piece of strength in her body and willed it into speed. The metal grating that served as the edge of the pad shook as she threw her weight on it and pushed off. Over a hundred and ten stories above the ground, she simply leaped off the edge towards the departing helicopter.

The Deadpoint was surreal, and wondered if this was what it was like before someone died. All she could hear was her own heartbeat…or was that the sound of the rotors? The helicopter was still pulling away, slow like taffy, but it hadn't leveled off or turned away yet. She could still see Jacknife through the open door, and Kate at his feet. Close enough to almost touch.

He moved even slower, a dumb look on his face that was a cross between a laugh and a sneer, but he was bringing the gun up. Very slowly in one hand with a loose, cocky stance. No form, just like a Runner.

The drop beneath her stretched for what felt like miles, but Faith was too busy focused on the helicopter. Just above the door was a small metal bar, a handle used as a boarding aid. That was her target. With everything else spinning blades or nothingness, the Flow seemed to pulse on that one single spot until it was red hot. She got closer and closer until she touched it just after the height of her jump.

The impact registered as her hands _slammed_ into it. Coldness at first, then pressure, sharpening until it was throbbed in the butt of her palm and her wrists like needles. An instant sensation drawn out for seconds in the Deadpoint.

His gun was in her face. No, it was too high, aiming just over her left shoulder. He fired. She didn't see the bullet, but saw and felt the flash. It burned against her cheek, nearly blinding her. The slide kicked back and ejected the first round.

The shell twinkled in the low light. Time sped back up.

She curled her legs, swung forward, then kicked all in one motion, using the momentum of her jump. Both feet caught Jacknife square in the chest, blowing him out the other side of the helicopter as his gun fired wildly. Bullets ricocheted off the interior, and with a surprised howl, he disappeared into the glow of the city below. Faith nearly followed him, losing her grip on the bar and spilling into the helicopter on her back.

Everything suddenly went crazy. The helicopter banked hard into a spin, nearly spilling her back out the door. There were claxons on top of sirens, the flash of a slumped pilot over the controls. The bullets…

_He hit the pilot_.

The pull of the spin tugged at her, forcing her to lean into it as she wildly grabbed for something to hold on to. Abruptly, the floor pitched at a hard angle the other way, throwing her back to the ground. She saw Kate, desperately trying to cling to the floor as the spinning intensified. Faith reached out to grab her, but the helicopter rolled again, tossing her to the other side of the cabin. Her head slammed into the door, slurring her vision. The spinning vista outside went black for an instant. The cell tower. The chopper lurched violently with a screech of breaking metal as the tail and rotors clipped the tower.

The force stopped for an instant, then hit from the other direction as the chopper reversed its spin. Faith slid to the other side of the compartment, getting an arm against her head to absorb most of the shock. Then, she saw Kate scrabbling against the floor as an unseen force seemed to drag her towards the open door.

"_KATE NO_!" Faith screamed, but it was too late. Her sister fell out the open door and vanished from sight with a shriek. She leaped for the door, seeing nothing but spinning city lights, then the massive blue wall of light and glass that was the Shard. Over the whir of blades, the claxons, the alarms, and her own screams, she heard another cry, a tiny figure hanging from the edge of the Shard in the shadow of the helipad before spinning out of sight.

The blue Shard returned half a second later before disappearing again just as fast. Faith leaped forward as it disappeared a second time, the broken tail rotor snarling as it buzzed a foot above her.

"_AHHHHFAITH_!"

After jumping from a spinning, shaking craft, there was no way to control her fall. She landed hard, the gravel pounding into her shins, knees, elbows and hands. With no speed and facing the wrong way, she twisted awkwardly just in time to see Kate slipping from the edge, her cuffed hands wildly grabbing for something solid. She found nothing but loose gravel, then the lip of the building as her weight carried her down.

"_FAITH…FAITH…FAAAITH!"_

Faith clawed at the gravel and dove forward, coming up short and landing face first into it. Her momentum almost carried her over the edge as Kate disappeared from view, reaching over the edge with both hands-

-and her fingers closed around the chain holding her wrists together.

"Gotcha!" she breathed.

-just as the helicopter suddenly veered into the side of the Shard several stories down, main rotors shredding the glass wall before-

_BOOOOOM_

The explosion was enough to shake her teeth, and she almost lost her grip on Kate's cuffs as the shockwave ripped through them. The heat was blistering, like a furnace, but as soon as the wave hit, it was over. The air stilled, save for the heat and the sound of groaning metal. Kate looked down, her face in shock at the mess of twisted metal, glass, and fire that began to fall to the streets below, never mind that she was hanging over a sheer drop of over a hundred stories. She looked back up, eyes distant before something finally clicked behind them, and they began to brim with water.

Faith braced herself and pulled while Kate got her feet against the building. With her help, Faith was able to pull her up back onto the roof, her muscles burning in protest the entire way. But with Kate in her hands, there wasn't a chance she was going to let go. Not again. Kate slumped against her, and Faith embraced her gently, taking her head into the crook of her neck.

"Gotcha," she whispered, holding her close. "I gotcha…I gotcha…you're okay."

She could still hear the aftermath of the crash. Glass tinkled as it broke away from the fire, metal groaned as bits of the helicopter broke away in the heat and wreckage. The sound of clanging metal could even be heard from over a hundred stories below as it hit the pavement. For a few seconds, it was almost peaceful, with a light breeze across the rooftop. But she knew it wouldn't last long. In a few seconds, they started again.

Sirens. Distant wails slowly growing closer, a medley of emergency response vehicles. Firetrucks, ambulances, and police cruisers. _A lot_ of police cruisers. Looking past Kate, she could see the streets that veined the late night glow of the city. Blue flashes pulsed in the distance along many of them, and they were getting closer. Lights blinked along the horizon, too. Helicopters. Both CEC and police.

"Kate…" She had to swallow in order to speak louder. "Kate, they're coming. We have to run."

**The End**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Certainly has been a long time, hasn't it? Over 3 years! I just wanted to thank those who stuck with it from beginning to end, and of course, thank you to anyone who actually read any of it. My life changed a lot while writing this. I started my senior year of college, underwent a cross country move to a career, and have worked crazy hours since. But it was always my goal to get this finished. I was going to put it off a little longer, but with E3 occurring and getting new info on the ME reboot, I figured this was the best time to wrap it up.<strong>

**I hope you all enjoyed the ride. Was this maybe how ME was supposed to really look? Who knows. I did so much stitching together that it's impossible to tell, and there's still plenty of loose ends hanging. Did Celeste really die? What kind of past did Faith and Jacknife have? Did Miller die in the Shard? What exactly was Callaghan's plan? Despite some jumps in perspective, this was more a story about Faith, and this story ends with what she does best: running. What happens before or after this point is entirely up to the reader.**

**As for me, I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Writing is getting harder and harder to do for me, but I want to try and tackle another novelization. I've had my eye on Perfect Dark for a while, being a huge fan of the prequel novels (and to some extent, Zero). That would be a massive undertaking. Even more so than ME, probably, but who knows? I write for fun, not for profit, which means I can write at my own pace. Hope to see you all in the future!**


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